/ 2.  . -5",  /6  . 


0f  tut  WMogitHi 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


Purchased  by  the  Hamill  Missionary  Fund. 


PZ  7 . B2 6 1 T 2 
Barnes,  Annie  Maria,  b. 

1 857  . 

Tatong,  the  little  slave 


TATONG, 

THE  LITTLE  SLAVE. 

A STORY  OF  KOREA. 


BY 

ANNIE  MARIA  BARNES, 

Author  of  “ Xinito “ The  House  of  Grass,”  “ Children  of  the  Kalahari 
“ How  A-chon-lio-ah  Found  the  Light,”  “ Izilda ,”  41  Matouchon.” 


RICHMOND,  VA.: 

The  Presbyterian  Committee  of  Publication. 


Copyrighted 


by 

JAS.  K.  HAZEN,  Secretary  of  Publication , 

1899. 


Printed  by 

Whittet  & Shepperson, 
Richmond,  Va. 


TO 


my  friend. 

Mrs.  J.  P-  CAMPBELL, 

earnest  teacher  of  tHe  “jesUs  doctriNe” 


at  seoUL,  Korea. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/tatonglittleslavOObarn 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  Page. 

The  One  Who  Caked, 7 

CHAPTER  II. 

Old  Kimki, 23 

CHAPTER  III. 

Poor  Tatong! 36 

CHAPTER  IV. 

“ God,  the  Father,”  .....  50 

CHAPTER  V. 

Home  Lite  of  the  Little  Slave,  ...  68 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Kurdong,  ......  82 

CHAPTER  VII. 

In  the  Marble  Pagoda,  ....  98 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

“ They  Cast  Me  Out  to  Die,”  . . . 116 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Wedding  at  Mr  Ni’s, 


135 


6 


Contents. 


CHAPTER  X.  page. 

The  Faithfulness  of  a Little  Heart,  . . 154 

CHAPTER  XI. 

On  the  South  Road, 171 

CHAPTER  XII. 

“ The  Jesus  Doctrine,”  ....  195 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

In  the  Shelter  of  the  Beautiful  Place,  . 220 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Conclusion,  .......  244 


TATOAG, 

THE  LITTLE  KOREA  1ST  SLAVE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  One  Who  Caked. 

T)  IGTIT  in  the  center  of  the  quaint  city  of 
lY  Seoiil  (pronounced  Sa-ool),  Korea,  which 
is  surrounded  by  a massive  wall  as  high  as  a 
three-story  house,  and  with  its  queer  mud  and 
straw  dwellings  that  look  just  like  a great  field 
full  of  hay-ricks  all  tumbled  together,  stands  the 
little  temple  in  which  is  the  big  bell  that  is  rung 
at  the  opening  and  closing  of  the  gates.  I say 
rung,  but  I mean  struck,  for  it  is  made  to  give 
forth  its  sound  by  being  pounded  upon  by  a big 
beam.  All  around  this  bell  temple  are  the 
stores,  many  of  them  no  more  than  booths.  Here 
most  of  the  business  is  transacted.  At  any  hour 
of  the  day  you  can  find  a crowd  gathered.  Some- 
times it  is  so  large  that  it  is  with  difficulty  a 
passage  through  it  can  be  obtained.  Here  men, 
women  and  children  come,  either  to  buy,  sell,  or 
to  gaze  upon  the  scenes  with  curiosity.  There 


8 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


are  merchants,  peddlers,  clerks,  gentlemen,  of- 
ficers of  the  law,  and  even  soldiers.  The  most 
of  them  look  like  ghosts  stealing  about,  for  men 
and  women  dress  principally  in  white  in  Korea. 
Sometimes  it  is  very  difficult  to  tell  the  men 
from  the  women,  so  much  alike  is  the  costume. 
Both  dress  in  long,  big-sleeved  robes  somewhat 
like  a blouse,  with  the  trousers  showing  beneath. 
The  men  wear  very  large,  full  trousers,  which 
are  wadded,  as  are  also  their  socks.  On  their 
heads  are  immense  hats  of  straw,  bamboo  or 
horsehair.  Many  of  the  hats  are  tied  under  the 
chin  by  means  of  a stiff  ribbon.  The  shoes  are 
principally  of  straw  or  wood.  The  most  of  them 
are  sandals  that  cover  but  a portion  of  the  foot, 
others  are  in  shape  like  a shallow  boat. 

The  stores  jut  out  into  the  streets.  They  are 
very  small,  a large  portion  of  them  being  no 
more  than  straw  sheds.  The  Korean  merchant 
does  not  make  much  of  a display  of  his  goods, 
lie  brings  out  piece  by  piece  or  article  by  article 
as  you  ask  for  it.  Often  you  will  see  the  mer- 
chant squatting  outside  his  booth  smoking  while 
he  waits  for  a customer.  You  must  ask  him 
for  what  you  want  before  he  will  go  to  the 
booth. 

When  it  is  a regular  market  day,  the  streets 
are  lined  with  sellers  other  than  those  in  the 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


9 


stores  and  booths.  Their  wares  are  laid  out  on 
mats  spread  on  the  ground.  These  merchants 
have  for  sale  strings  of  dried  pepper,  Korean 
matches,  which  are  nothing  but  shavings  with 
their  ends  dipped  in  sulphur,  dried  fish,  sea- 
weed, wooden  combs,  skeins  of  cotton,  cord  for 
girdles,  and  the  like. 

Instead  of  purses  or  a money-box,  each  seller 
keeps  strands  of  a coarse  twine  made  of  straw, 
on  which  is  strung  his  “cash.”1 

One  market  day,  when  trade  was  very  brisk, 
and  great  streams  of  people  were  hurrying  along 
in  the  direction  of  the  bell-temple,  a little  girl 
of  twelve  or  thereabouts  came  slowly  down  one 
of  the  narrow  alley-like  streets.  She  was  going 
toward  the  market  place  as  were  the  others,  but, 
unlike  the  others,  was  not  hastening.  Her  dress 
was  neither  clean  nor  neat.  It  was  of  coarse 
cotton  goods,  winch  had  once  been  wliite,  but 
vras  now  so  soiled  and  worn  all  whiteness  had 
gone  from  it.  The  loose  garment  was  fastened 
at  the  wTaist  by  a girdle  of  straw.  The  skirt  of 
the  outer  garment  caught  her  just  half  way  be- 
tween the  knee  and  the  ankle.  Below  it  her  trou- 
sers fell,  wliile  on  her  feet  were  sandals  of  straw. 

Unlike  most  of  the  women  and  girls  wlio 
passed  her,  her  face  vras  uncovered.  They  had 


1 Copper  coins  with  small  square  holes  in  the  center. 


10  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

a kind  of  green  coat  with  long  sleeves,  which 
they  held  up  tight  around  their  faces,  only  the 
eyes  and  forehead  showing.  But  this  little  girl 
had  nothing  over  her  face.  This  at  once  pro- 
claimed that  she  belonged  to  the  lowest  class,  or 
that  she  was  a slave.  It  was  the  latter.  Poor 
Tatong  had  neither  home,  parents  nor  loved 
ones.  She  was  the  slave  of  the  family  of  Mr. 
Hi,  the  hat-weaver.  She  had  been  picked  rip 
when  an  infant  in  an  old  field  where  she  had 
been  thrown  to  die.  She  thus,  by  the  law  of  the 
country,  became  the  slave  of  the  one  who  found 
her.  He  could  either  keep  her  for  his  own  use 
or  sell  her.  He  had  kept  her  until  she  was  five 
years  old,  then  sold  her  to  Mr.  Hi. 

Poor  Tatong  had  had  a wretched  life,  even 
more  wretched  than  is  usual  in  that  country 
where  woman’s  lot  is  so  hard  and  cruel.  She 
had  known  nothing  all  her  life  save  hard  work 
and  ill-usage,  for  she  had  begun  her  life  of  slave 
labor  as  soon  as  her  little  hands  were  able  to 
carry  water  for  the  angpak.1  Blows  and  hard 
words  had  come  even  before  labor  had  com- 
menced. This  treatment  was  enough  to  have 
made  Tatong  herself  hard  and  sullen.  But  it 
had  not  altogether,  for  there  was  still  within  her 
heart  a little  sunspot  of  brightness  and  sweet, 


1 The  great  water  jar  kept  in  Korean  kitchens. 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


11 


good-nature.  The  light  broke  forth  every  now 
and  then  and  shone.  Yet  how  many  hitter  cries 
there  had  been,  and  what  sad,  sad  times  she  had 
had  brooding  over  her  cares  and  her  woes ! 

As  she  went  along  now  her  face  had  a woe-be- 
gone  expression,  yet  despite  this  and  the  hard  lot 
she  had  had  in  life,  it  was  a pleasant  face,  even 
more,  it  was  an  attractive  face.  Her  complexion 
was  not  so  yellow  as  that  of  the  Chinese  or  J ap- 
anese ; it  was  more  of  a brunette  coloring.  Her 
nose  was  small  and  straight,  and  her  eyes  large 
and  of  a soft  deep  gray.  Down  her  back  in  two 
long  plaits  hung  her  hair  of  a dark,  reddish 
brown. 

She  held  her  hands  clasped  before  her,  while 
through  a great  string  of  the  brown  copper 
“cash”  her  arms  were  run.  It  was  evidently  a 
circlet  of  much  weight  though  not  of  much 
value,  that  is,  as  dollars  were  counted,  for  each 
one  of  these  copper  coins  was  worth  only  about 
one-fifth  of  our  cent ; that  is,  it  would  take  five 
hundred  of  them  to  make  our  dollar. 

But  they  seemed  of  great  value  in  the  eyes  of 
the  little  slave,  for  as  she  went  along  she  kept 
close  watch  upon  them.  Well  she  knew  what 
would  be  the  consequence  if  any  of  them  were 
lost  or  stolen.  How  could  she  replace  even  five 
of  them  ? Every  one  had  been  counted  before 


12 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


she  left  on  her  trip  to  the  market.  She  knew, 
to  the  very  last  copper,  what  she  was  expected 
to  bring  hack  for  them.  If  she  failed,  then  a 
beating  would  most  assuredly  he  in  store  for 
her. 

She  kept  much  to  herself,  that  is,  as  much 
as  she  could,  during  the  walk  to  the  market, 
hut  this  was  impossible  where  the  streets  were 
crowded.  Many  jostled  her,  a man  carrying 
pottery  on  a great  frame  like  an  easel  almost 
ran  over  her,  then  stormed  at  her  because  she 
had  not  gotten  out  of  the  way.  One  corner  of 
his  frame  had  come  near  catching  under  her 
string  of  “cash.”  Had  it  done  so  the  straw 
might  have  been  torn  apart  and  the  money  scat- 
tered. 

A magistrate’s  procession  delayed  her.  She 
dared  not  cross  in  front  of  it,  nor  even  between 
it  while  it  was  passing,  though  some  of  the  riders 
were  wide  apart.  Had  she  done  so,  by  the  law 
of  the  country,  she  would  have  been  arrested 
and  punished,  perhaps  flogged  with  bamboo 
poles. 

At  last  the  market  place  was  reached.  Around 
an  old  woman,  who  was  squatting  beside  her  mat, 
a large  crowd  was  gathered.  It  was  composed 
chiefly  of  hoys.  The  reason  for  so  many  hover- 
ing about  was  soon  disclosed.  The  old  woman 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  13 

had  mochi 1 and  sticks  of  barley  sugar  for  sale. 
The  boys  who  could  buy  were  stuffing  the  sweets 
away  as  fast  as  they  could  and  hooting  at  those 
who  could  not  buy. 

Tatong  tried  to  make  her  way  through  this 
crowd,  but  failed.  She  was  just  turning  aside 
to  cross  over  to  the  other  part  of  the  street,  when 
two  of  the  boys  spied  her  and  began  to  jeer  at 
her. 

“Slave  ! slave  !”  they  cried.  “Why  do  you  not 
come  on  through  ? Are  you  afraid  ?” 

She  made  no  answer.  This  seemed  to  anger 
them.  They  reached  out,  and  catching  her 
roughly,  began  to  jerk  her  and  to  pull  at  her, 
sending  her  from  one  to  the  other  like  a ball,  all 
the  time  laughing  at  the  fun  of  it. 

“Don’t !”  plead  Tatong,  “Oh  ! don’t ! ” 

Others  turned  around  now  to  see  whence  the 
noise  came.  They,  too,  joined  in,  either  laugh- 
ing or  taking  part  in  the  sport  of  tormenting 
poor  Tatong.  Suddenly  her  hands  slipped  apart, 
her  arms  dropped  down,  and  over  them  went 
sliding  the  string  of  “cash.”  She  tried  to  get  a 
hold  upon  it  and  stop  it,  but  failed.  It  slid  past 
her  hands,  then  fell  with  a thud  to  the  ground. 
A boy  who  had  been  for  some  time  watching  the 
string  of  “cash”  more  than  he  had  the  move- 


1 A paste  made  of  sweetened  rice. 


14 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


ments  of  the  group  around  Tatong,  sprang  for- 
ward and  attempted  to  seize  it.  But  two  other 
boys  had  each  placed  a foot  upon  it,  A scramble 
now  took  place  for  its  possession.  In  the  scram- 
ble the  cord  of  straw  was  torn  apart,  and  the 
coins  were  scattered  in  every  direction. 

“Rogues !”  cried  a voice  at  that  moment,  and 
a hoy  of  better  appearance  than  any  of  the  others 
sprang  into  their  midst,  pushing  right  and  left. 
By  sheer  force  he  soon  had  a space  cleared 
around  where  the  money  had  fallen,  hut  by  this 
time  fully  one-half  of  the  coins  had  disappeared. 
The  hoy  now  began  gathering  them  up.  Others 
helped  him,  for  all  had  not  been  had.  The  most 
of  them  had  only  intended  to  have  fun.  Some 
had  begun  to  feel  regret  as  soon  as  they  saw  how 
the  rough  play  was  ending. 

By  this  time,  Tatong,  having  seen  the  coins 
rolling  away,  and  the  light  fingers  grabbing  for 
them,  was  weeping  bitterly. 

“What  shall  I "do  ? What  shall  I do?”  she 
cried.  “I  shall  surely  he  beaten  ! I shall ! I 
shall !” 

The  hoy  had  now  gathered  all  the  coin  he 
could  get  together,  both  from  the  ground  and 
through  threats  made  to  certain  of  the  boys  he 
had  seen  scrambling  for  them  as  they  rolled 
away.  He  approached  Tatong  holding  them  in 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  15 

his  hat,  for,  unlike  the  others,  his  head  had  been 
covered.1 

“I  am  sorry  I conld  not  get  more,”  he  said. 
“Yes,  I am  very  sorry.  Here  are  all  I could 
find.” 

His  voice,  too,  was  not  like  the  others.  It  had 
a different  tone ; it  was  softer,  gentler,  and  how 
kind  were  his  words  ! 

As  deep  as  was  her  trouble,  Tatong  noticed 
this,  and  noticed,  too,  that  his  clothes  were  not 
made  the  same  way.  There  was  more  of  his 
trousers  showing,  though  they  were  not  very 
wide,  and  the  upper  garment  did  not  come  more 
than  to  his  knees. 

“We  will  get  another  string,”  he  continued, 
“one  of  the  merchants  will  give  us  one,  and  I 
will  help  you  put  the  coin  back.” 

When  the  “cash”  were  put  on  the  string  again 
nearly  a hundred  were  found  missing. 

Tatong  was  so  overcome  that  she  sat  right 
down  in  the  street  and  hurst  into  tears,  swaying 
herself  to  and  fro. 

The  boy  looked  perplexed,  then  sad.  This 

1 It  is  not  the  custom  in  Korea  for  boys  to  wear  hats 
until  they  become  men,  and  then  often  not  until  they  are 
married.  They  go  bareheaded,  with  their  hair  parted  in 
the  middle  and  hanging  down  their  backs  in  plaits  like 
that  of  the  girls. 


16 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


was  surely  a poor  return  for  his  kindness.  He 
had  had  a hard  time  getting  so  many  of  the 
coin  together.  Was  she  not  glad  for  that 
much  at  least  ? But  it  seemed  not.  If  he  only 
had  some  to  give  her,  he  thought.  But  this 
could  not  he,  for  there  was  not  one  in  his  girdle 
or  about  him.  He  had  had  a few  earlier  in  the 
day,  but  all  were  gone  now.  How  he  wished  he 
had  saved  them ! 

He  tried  to  talk  to  Tatong,  but  her  grief  was 
so  violent  she  either  could  not  or  would  not  hear 
him.  He  stood  a few  moments  looking  at  her 
sadly,  then  walked  away.  But  he  glanced  back 
once  or  twice  as  he  went.  He  had  done  an  un- 
usual thing  for  a boy  in  Korea.  Had  not  Tatong 
realized  it  ? 

Several  minutes  passed.  Tatong  was  still 
crying,  though  she  had  raised  her  head  to  regard 
the  remainder  of  the  coins  as  they  lay  in  her 
lap.  Some  one  else  was  standing  near  her  now, 
some  one  else  was  regarding  her. 

“Little  one,”  said  a deep,  strong  voice  at  this 
moment,  “why  do  you  weep  ?” 

Tatong  gave  a start,  then  looked  up  into  the 
face  bending  toward  her.  But  she  could  see 
little  of  the  face  because  of  the  great  brim  of  the 
hat  the  stranger  wore  and  a portion  of  his  robe, 
which  was  drawn  up  close  about  his  chin.  But 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  17 

she  could  see  his  eves  and  his  lips  plainly.  How 
gentle  were  the  former ! what  sweet,  kind  words 

O 

the  latter  had  spoken!  Tatong  could  hardly 
credit  what  her  ears  had  heard.  Had  he  indeed 
spoken  in  this  way  to  her  ? to  her,  a poor  little 
slave,  to  whom  others  rarely  ever  spoke  save  in 
command  or  abuse.  And  it  was  such  a rare 
thing,  anyhow,  for  a man  in  Korea  to  thus  accost 
a woman  or  girl. 

“Little  one,”  said  the  voice  again,  “I  have 
asked  you  what  is  the  matter?  Why  do  you 
cry  so  ?” 

“O  sir,”  replied  Tatong,  and  bursting  into 
fresh  tears,  “such  a dreadful  thing  has  happened 
to  me !” 

“What  is  it  that  has  happened  ?”  asked  the 
stranger. 

“My  mistress  sent  me  to  market.  I had  more 
than  four  hundred  cash.  I had  to  buy  rice, 
mochi,  ginseng,  matches  and  eggs.  There  was 
just  enough  cash  and  no  more  for  each  one.  But 
some  rude  boys  caught  me  and  pulled  me  about. 
The  string  of  cash  slipped  from  my  arms.  It 
fell  to  the  ground.  There  were  thieves  watching 
for  it.  They  sprang  upon  it,  tore  it  apart,  and 
began  picking  up  the  coins.  But  for  one  who 
was,  Oh ! so  kind ! who  rushed  into  their  midst 
and  forced  them  away  and  got  back  some  of  the 


18 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


coin,  there  would  not  have  been  one  left.  As  it 
is,  there  are  nearly  a hundred  gone,  and  Oh ! I 
shall  be  beaten  for  it ! Oh  ! I know  I shall ! My 
mistress  is  hard,  cruel ; she  will  not  let  me  off !” 
“Poor  child  ! poor  child !”  said  the  man.  “Is 
it  so  had  as  this  ? Will  you  really  he  beaten  for 
something  you  could  not  help  ?” 

“Oh  ! yes,  I shall ! I know,  sir,  I shall !” 

“But  you  say  the  larger  part  of  the  coin  was 
saved,”  he  continued.  “Ought  you  not  to  be 
thankful  for  that  ?”  and  he  looked  at  her  closely. 

“O  sir,  I suppose  that  I ought.  But  for  those 
that  have  been  lost  I shall  he  beaten  all  the  same, 
so  it  might  as  well  have  been  all !”  and  she  broke 
forth  again  into  tears. 

“Hot  so,  poor  child,  as  I think  I can  prove  to 
you.  As  you  have  lost  but  a part  of  the  coin,  then 
I think  that  I may  replace  them,  as  I have  about 
that  many,  maybe  a few  more  in  my  wallet  here. 
Thus,  if  I give  them  to  you,  you  can  get  what 
you  were  sent  to  get,  and  so  will  not  be  beaten. 
But  if  you  had  lost  all,  I could  not  have  replaced 
them,  since  I have  them  not.  Then  you  would 
have  been  beaten.  Do  you  not  see  the  differ- 
ence ?” 

“O  sir !”  cried  Tatong  rapturously,  and  with- 
out noting  the  question,  “you  will  give  me  the 
coin  ?” 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


19 


“I  will  give  you  the  coin.  I cannot  bear  to 
think  of  your  being  beaten.” 

“I  can  hardly  believe  what  I bear ! How  is  it 
that  anyone  can  care  for  me,  for  me,  the  poor 
little  slave  Tatong  ? Ob ! I did  not  think  this 
could  be ! Sir,  sir,  do  you  give  me  the  coin  be- 
cause you  really  do  not  wish  me  to  be  beaten  ?” 
“That  is  why  I give  it  to  you.  Does  it  seem 
so  strange  to  you  that  I should  ?” 

“O  sir,  it  does.  All  my  life  no  one  has  ever 
cai’ed  before,  no  one,”  collecting  herself,  “until 
the  kind  boy  did.  Oh  ! how  sorry  I am  I did  not 
tell  him  my  heart  was  thanking  him ! But  it 
was  the  tears  and  the  fear  of  the  beating  that 
would  not  let  me.  It  was  so  I could  not  even 
see  his  face.  I could  hear  his  voice,  but  I could 
not  understand.  How  he  is  gone,  and  I can 
never  tell  him.” 

“You  may  see  him  again.” 

“How  I hope  that  I can  ! I shall  look  for  him 
every  day  and  with  all  my  eyes.  Oh ! he  was  so 
different  from  the  rest,  different  from  the  others 
I have  seen,  and  you,  sir — .” 

Here  Tatong  stopped.  She  had  been  on  the 
point  of  saying,  “and  you,  sir,  are  too.”  But  she 
did  not,  for  she  was  not  sure,  though  he  had  been 
so  kind,  just  how  it  would  be  received.  He  was 
not  a boy  but  a man ; so  she  could  not  express 
her  thoughts  so  freely  to  him. 


20 


T atong,  the  Little  Slave. 


For  the  last  moment  or  so  he  had  been  busy 
•with  a stout  wallet  he  wore  at  his  girdle. 

“Here,  Tatong,”  he  said,  “are  thirty  cash  and 
one  silver  piece,  which,  together,  will  be  more 
than  the  ninety  odd  cash  you  have  lost.” 

“O  sir,  how  can  I take  it,  when  it  seems  all 
that  you  have  ?” 

“But  I may  get  more,”  he  returned  with  a 
smile.  “Anyhow,  I do  not  need  them  so  much 
as  you.” 

“I  never  thought  anyone  could  or  would  care 
so  much  for  me,”  said  Tatong,  overcome  again 
by  tears.  “Oh  ! it  seems  like  a dream ! Can  it  be 
true  ? Do  you  really  want  me  not  to  get  the  beat- 
ing ? Is  this  why  you  give  me  the  cash  ?” 

“Yes,  child,  it  is.” 

“But  you  would  not  know  it,  you  would  not 
see  it ; how,  then,  could  you  care  ?” 

“I  care  now.  It  is  enough  to  see  you  suffer  as 
you  do.” 

“Xo  one  ever  cared  before ! Xo  one  ever 
cared  before ! I might  have  died  while  they 
were  beating  me  and  no  one  woiild  have  said, 
‘Poor  Tatong.’  They  would  have  thrown  me  out 
in  the  old  fields  for  the  beasts  to  pick  my  hones, 
and  that  would  have  been  the  end.  Xo  one 
would  have  cared  ! no  one  would  have  cared  !” 

“Yes,  Tatong,  there  is  One  who  would  have 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


21 


known,  who  would  have  seen,  who  would  have 
cared.  That  One  is  the  great  God  who  reigns 
up  yonder.” 

“Ua-na-nim!”1  cried  Tatong  quickly.  Oh! 
he  is  so  terrible ! His  eyes  are  like  fire.  Oh  ! 
surely  you  do  not  mean  him !” 

“Hot  Ha-na-nim , Tatong,  but  God,  our  Father 
in  heaven.  He  cares  for  you.  He  cares  for 
even  the  tiniest  bird  with  wings  too  weak  to 
leave  the  nest.  There  is  not  a blade  of  grass, 
nor  a flower  on  the  stalk  that  he  does  not  note 
when  it  withers  and  dies.” 

“O  sir,”  cried  Tatong,  “tell  me  more ! God, 
our  Father!  You  do  not  mean  that  he  is  my 
father,  too  ? Oh  ! I cannot  believe  it ! It  is  too 
good  to  be  true  ! Tell  me  again  !” 

“Yes,  Tatong,  he  is  your  father,  too.  lie 
knows  you,  he  cares  for  you.” 

“Tatong’s  father  ! Tatong’s  father ! And  he 
cares  ! he  cares!  O sir  ! O sir  !” 

“Yes,  Tatong,  he  cares.  He  even  loves  you.” 
“Tell  me  more  ! Oh  ! tell  me  more  ! Hobody 
ever  cared  before.  How  you  tell  me  One  does, 
One  other  besides  yourself.  And  he  is  my 
father ! O sir,  how  can  it  be  ? There  was  never 
a father  for  Tatong,  miserable  slave  Tatong ! 

1 The  name  by  which  the  Koreans  designate  God.  It 
means  “the  Lord  of  heaven.” 


22  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

Even  those  where  I was  horn  would  not  have 
me.  They  threw  me  out  to  perish  with  the 
beasts.  Oh ! tell  me  more  of  this  F ather,  this 
Father  that  you  say  is  Tatong’ s.” 

“That  I will,  Tatong,  but  too  many  are  look- 
ing now.  I must  not  be  seen  talking  to  you  so 
long.  Sometime  I will  tell  you  why  this  is.  Do 
you  know  where  the  Marble  Pagoda  is,  a part  of 
which  has  been  taken  off  and  set  on  the  ground  ? 
The  children  go  there  now  and  then  to  play,  and 
I thought  maybe  you  knew  where  it  was.” 

“Oh  ! yes,  sir,  I do.” 

“Well,  I am  there  almost  every  night  after 
the  bell  has  been  sounded  for  the  men  to  go 
home  and  the  women  to  come  out.  There  I 
meet  and  talk  to  a few  who  come  to  listen.  Will 
not  you,  too  ?” 

“O  sir,  that  I will  if  I can.  They  send  me 
many  times  into  the  streets  after  the  night  bell.” 
“Then  come,  Tatong,  if  you  can.  I must  go 
now,  and  so  must  you  to  get  the  things  you  were 
sent  to  purchase.  Let  this  remembrance  be  with 
you,  my  child,  whether  I ever  see  you  again  or 
not.  There  is  One  who  cares,  and  that  One  is 
God,  your  Father.” 


CHAPTER  II. 

Old  Kimbi. 

ATOXG  stood  looking  after  tlie  stranger 


until  lie  disappeared  within  the  sea  of 
white  gowns  and  big  hats.  What  wonderful 
thing  was  this  that  had  happened  to  her  ? Had 
he  really  been  so  kind  ? had  he  spoken  the  words 
that  even  now  were  ringing  through  her  heart 
like  the  music  from  sweet  bells  ? Yes,  it  had 
surely  been,  for  did  not  the  “cash”  and  the  tiny 
silver  piece  lie  there  in  her  lap  ? Oh ! but  for 
him  she  surely  would  have  gone  home  to  a ter- 
rible heating ! She  would  not  have  dared  run 
away,  for  then  they  would  have  hunted  for  her, 
and  when  they  had  found  her,  they  would  have 
beaten  her  many  times  over.  But  now  she  would 
not  he  beaten  at  all,  at  least  not  for  what  had 
happened  to  her  about  the  money.  The  kind 
stranger  had  come,  his  heart  had  opened,  he  had 
pitied  her,  he  had  given  her  nearly  all  that  he 
had  in  his  wallet — only  a few  “cash”  being  left 
— that  the  stinging  blows  might  not  descend 
upon  her,  the  cruel  lash  cut  into  her  flesh.  And 
all  this  was  done  because  he  was  sorry.  He  had 


2 4 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


said  so.  But  what  was  this  thing,  the  most  won- 
derful of  all  that  he  had  told  her  ? There  was 
One  who  eared,  cared  all  the  time,  One  who  was 
her  Father.  Tatong’s  Father!  Was  there 
really  a father  for  Tatong,  the  poor  little 
wretched  slave  girl  ? Where  was  he  ? Why  had 
he  stayed  away  all  this  time  ? Why  did  he  not 
come  where  she  could  see  him  ? Ah,  now  she  re- 
membered. This  Father  lived  above  the  sky.  He 
was  not  only  good,  hut  he  was  great.  He  owned 
many  things ; he  could  do  many  things.  Per- 
haps after  a while  he  would  let  her  look  on  his 
face  just  once  and  hear  his  words.  Oh  ! what  hap- 
piness that  would  be ! But  when  was  he  com- 
ing ? If  he  would  only  come  soon  ! Surely  if  he 
knew  how  hard  and  how  hitter  it  was,  the  life  of 
a slave,  he  would  not  delay. 

But  she  must  go  now  and  buy  the  things.  Her 
heart  was  so  light  she  scarcely  felt  herself  walk- 
ing. Some  of  the  ruder  ones  in  the  crowd  jostled 
her  first  one  way  and  then  the  other,  but  she  did 
not  seem  to  notice  it.  All  the  while  her  lips 
were  saying, 

“Tatong’s  Father  ! Tatong’s  Father  !” 

She  came  shortly  to  a kind  of  open  space  or 
lot,  where  a number  of  people  from  the  country 
had  congregated.  They  had  all  kinds  of  wares 
for  sale — fowls,  eggs,  hunches  of  millet  and  bar- 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


25 


ley,  small  bundles  of  wood,  and  even  bits  of  rude 
earthen  ware  which  they  had  themselves  manu- 
factured. 

Tatong  was  hurrying  along  almost  blindly 
when  a shout  arrested  her.  But  that  would  not 
have  been  sufficient  to  have  restrained  her  had 
not  a hand  at  that  moment  caught  her  and  firmly 
kept  her  from  taking  another  step.  Not  a mo- 
ment too  soon ! Had  another  step  been  taken, 
she  would  have  come  directly  in  front  of  a great 
ox  laden  with  bundles  of  wood.  As  well-dis- 
posed as  the  creature  might  have  been,  he  could 
not  of  himself  have  stopped  in  time  to  prevent 
knocking  her  down  and  trampling  upon  her. 

“Have  you  no  sense  ?”  asked  the  one  who  had 
caught  her,  and,  turning  her  head,  Tatong  looked 
up  into  the  eyes  of  a tall,  strong  woman,  her 
face  uncovered,  a handkerchief  of  brilliant  color 
fastened  about  her  head.  Her  clothes  were  not 
only  of  the  roughest  material,  but  were  soiled 
and  much  worn.  They  had,  too,  the  look  of  hav- 
ing been  put  on  carelessly. 

“Did  you  think  Mokpo  a lamb,  that  he  could 
stop  at  any  moment  and  walk  around  you  ? What 
did  you  mean,  running  right  under  his  feet  in 
that  way  ? Why,  didn’t  you  know  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him  to  have  stopped  in  time 
with  that  great  load  ? No  beast  of  his  size  could 


26 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


have  done  it,  not  even  one  so  gentle  and  so  kindly 
disposed  as  Mokpo.” 

“Oh ! I didn’t  see,”  replied  Tatong,  meekly. 
“I  had  no  idea  he  was  there.” 

“Well,  you  would  have  known  it  a second  later 
had  you  gone  on.  What’s  the  matter  with  you, 
anyhow  ?” 

“Oh  ! I’m  happy ! so  happy !” 

“Well,  you  don’t  look  like  one  with  any  reason 
to  he  happy,”  and  the  woman  glanced  meaningly 
at  her  wretched  attire.  “You  are  one  of  those 
in  bondage,  are  you  not  ?” 

“Yes,”  said  Tatong,  “I  am  a slave,  and  up  to 
only  a little  while  ago  I was  a very  miserable 
one.  But  now  I am  happy,  so  happy,  as  I have 
told  you  ?” 

“What  has  made  the  change  ?”  asked  the 
woman  wonderingly. 

“One  came  who  was  kind.  He  said  Oh ! so 
many  beautiful  things ! But  best  of  all  he  said 
to  me  that  there  was  a father  for  Tatong.  Oh ! 
to  think  of  it,  a father  for  a poor  little  wretched 
slave  like  me !” 

“There  isn’t  anything  so  uncommon  in  that. 
I guess  you  have  a father  somewhere.  It’s  to  be 
supposed  you  have.  But,  as  he  cast  you  off,  I 
can’t  see  why  you  are  so  glad  to  hear  of  him 
again.  I’d  he  anything  else  if  I were  you.” 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


27 


“Oh  ! hut  I have  such  a hard  time  ! Those  who 
have  me  do  not  want  me,  or  at  least  they  say  so. 
They  beat  me,  and  they  do  not  give  me  enough  to 
eat,  and  they  often  send  me  out  into  the  streets 
after  it  is  dark.” 

“I  wouldn’t  stay ; I would  run  away.” 

“They  would  be  sure  to  catch  me;  then  they 
woxild  beat  me  all  the  harder.” 

“They  would  not  catch  you  if  you  ran  away  to 
the  country,”  said  the  woman  in  a low  voice. 
“Why  do  you  not  get  outside  the  wall,  then  flee  ?” 
“I  should  be  afraid,”  admitted  Tatong  with  a 
shudder.  “Tigers  are  there.” 

“Oh ! you  could  find  plenty  of  those  in  whose 
company  you  could  get  so  that  the  tigers  could 
not  harm  you.” 

“Why  are  you  talking  there  so  long  ?”  cried  a 
quavering  voice  at  this  moment.  “Come  here, 
I want  to  know  what  it  is  about.” 

Tatong  looked  up  quickly  as  she  heard  the 
voice  and  the  words.  The  woman  who  had  been 
talking  to  her  had  stopped  to  do  so ; she  had  also 
by  a word  or  two  brought  the  ox  to  a standstill. 
Glancing  in  the  direction  whence  the  voice  had 
come,  Tatong  saw  an  old  woman  crouched  down 
against  the  corner  of  one  of  the  booths.  She 
had  evidently  stopped  there  to  await  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  one  who  had  caught  and  held  Tatong. 


28 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


She  was  now  tired  of  the  waiting,  and  expressed 

herself  accordingly. 

© «/ 

“I  must  go  and  speak  to  her,”  said  the  younger 
woman,  “for  she  will  not  rest  until  she  hears.” 
“Oh  ! I want  to  tell  you  I am  glad  you  pulled 
me  away  from  the  feet  of  the  ox,”  said  Tatong, 
detaining  her.  “I  ought  to  have  told  you  before, 
hut  we  began  to  talk  about  the  other  matter.  It 
was  good  of  you  not  to  let  me  be  hurt.” 

“You  needn’t  say  any  more  about  it.  I am 
glad  for  Mokpo’s  sake  as  well  as  your  own  that 
he  didn’t  hurt  you.  It  would  have  given  him  a 
bad  turn  had  he  done  it,  for  Mokpo’s  heart  is 
so  tender,  if  his  body  is  big  and  clumsy.” 

By  this  time  they  had  crossed  over  to  where 
the  old  woman  sat.  She,  too,  had  her  face  un- 
covered so  that  Tatong  could  see  her  plainly. 
She  was  old  and  wrinkled  and  had  a forbidding 
appearance,  so  much  so  that  Tatong  felt  a slmd- 
der  as  she  noted  it.  Her  nose  was  bowed  like  a 
parrot’s  beak,  and  what  teeth  she  had  left  looked 
like  yellow  fangs. 

“She  would  come,”  said  the  younger  woman, 
who,  by  this  time,  Tatong  had  set  down  in  her 
mind  as  the  daughter  of  the  older  one.  “She 
declared  there  was  some  things  she  must  do  and 
see.  The  way  was  long  and  hard,  and  I know 
she  is  worn  out,  but  she  will  not  say  so.” 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


29 


Despite  that  the  old  woman  was  rather  for- 
bidding looking  and  had  said  enough  to  show 
that  she  had  a bad  temper,  yet  the  young  woman 
spoke  to  her  kindly,  almost  tenderly.  Filial 
devotion  is  one  of  the  golden-hued  traits  in 
Korea.  It  is  one  of  the  rarest  of  occurrences 
that  parents  are  ill  used.  On  the  other  hand, 
let  them  be  as  cross  and  stirly  as  they  choose, 
they  are  treated  with  the  greatest  respect,  even 
veneration. 

As  Tatong  came  near  the  old  woman  she 
stared  at  her  closely,  then  began  to  work  her 
fingers  together,  crying  shrilly, 

“Who  are  you,  and  what  are  you  doing  here  ?” 
Tatong  shrank  away.  The  old  woman  was  so 
forbidding,  and  she  looked  at  her  with  such  a 
scowl,  but  she  managed  to  say, 

“I  am  Tatong,  the  little  slave  that  belongs  to 
the  family  of  Mr.  Hi,  and  I am  going  to  the 
market.” 

“A  slave  ? Ha ! ha  ! ho ! ho ! I thought  it ! I 
knew  it ! It  isn’t  very  nice,  now,  to  be  a slave, 
is  it  ?” 

“Xo,”  said  Tatong,  ready  to  cry ; “it  isn’t.” 
“You  get  beaten,  don’t  you  ? Oh,  it  hurts,  eh  ? 
There  are  stripes  on  you  now,  I suppose.  Wish 
I could  see  them.” 

“Yes,”  said  Tatong,  the  tears  ready  to  come 


30 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


now ; “they  do  heat  me.  There  are  stripes  on 
my  back  that  are  not  well  yet.  But  Oh ! surely 
yon  don’t  mean  that  you  are  glad  about  them !” 

“Yes,  T am !”  she  declared  snappishly.  “I 
like  to  see  such  as  you  get  beaten.  It’s  your 
face,  you  know.” 

Tatong  wondered  what  there  was  about  her 
face  that  made  the  old  woman  so  angry.  She 
was  evidently  going  to  say  more  to  the  child, 
but  by  this  time  her  daughter  had  succeeded  in 
drawing  off  her  attention  to  something  else. 

Had  you  been  there,  you  would  have  noticed 
that  the  younger  woman  did  not  once  address 
the  older  one  as  mother,  though  this  must  have 
been  the  relation  she  bore.  The  custom  in 
Korea  is  not  to  address  parents  as  such,  or  even 
to  mention  the  name  of  mother  or  father  in  their 
presence. 

As  Tatong  was  hurrying  away,  not  knowing 
what  moment  the  old  woman’s  tongue  might  send 
words  after  her,  she  heard  one  man  say  to  an- 
other, 

“There  is  old  Kimri  again.  I wonder  what 
mischief  she  is  after  now  ? She  never  comes  in 
but  she  makes  a stir  of  some  kind.  I am  truly 
sorry  for  her  daughter.  The  old  one  fairly  rides 
over  her.  If  it  were  not  that  she  had  some  fear 
of  her  son-in-law,  I don’t  know  how  they  could 
possibly  get  on  with  her.” 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


31 


“Isn’t  she  the  old  woman  who  is  so  vicious  to 
other  women,”  asked  the  other,  “especially  to 
those  who  are  young  and  good  looking  ?” 

“Yes.  The  story  is  that  all  her  life  she  has 
been  terribly  ugly.  Just  by  looking  at  her  one 
could  easily  surmise  that.  It  all  went  very  well 
while  she  could  keep  her  face  covered.  But  when 
she  married  and  her  husband  saw  her  face,  then 
he  cast  her  off.  She  was  like  a beast  in  her  temper 
after  that,  and  would  never  wear  the  green  coat 
again.1  From  that  time  on  she  bore  a dreadful 
grudge  toward  good-looking  women.  She  has 
even  scratched  the  faces  of  two  or  three  of 
them.” 

Tatong  passed  on.  What  a dreadful  creature 
old  Kimri  must  he.  IIow  glad  she,  Tatong,  was 
that  she  had  gotten  out  of  her  sight  as  quickly  as 
she  had ! How  many  more  terrible  questions 
would  she  have  asked  ? And  Oh ! what  a hard 
heart  she  had  ! To  think  she  could  care  so  to  see 
the  stripes  where  one  had  been  beaten ! Tatong 
could  not  help  contrasting  this  with  the  gentle- 
ness and  tenderness  of  the  stranger.  He  had 
been  so  sorry  for  her.  Bather  than  have  her 

1 A kind  of  coat,  or  outer  covering,  worn  by  the  wo- 
men and  girls  of  Korea.  They  do  not  put  it  on,  only 
throw  it  over  their  bodies,  the  long  sleeves  hanging  down 
like  great,  flapping  ears.  With  the  upper  portion  they 
cover  their  faces,  drawing  it  together  just  under  the  eyes. 


32  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

beaten  be  bad  given  her  almost  the  last  “cash” 
be  bad.  And  be  was  a man  and  Kirnri  a woman. 
It  was  so  strange,  so  new.  All  the  men  Tatong 
bad  known  np  to  this  time  bad  held  themselves 
aloof  from  the  women  and  girls,  rarely  ever 
speaking  to  them  except  to  command.  They 
were  cruel,  too,  in  many  ways.  Tatong  had  been 
roughly  shoved  by  them  often  and  often.  She 
had  felt  the  force  of  hand  and  foot.  From 
whence  had  this  kind,  this  tender  one  come  ? 
Surely  he  did  not  live  here ! Yet  in  face,  and 
almost  in  dress,  he  was  like  the  others.  That 
is,  the  face  was  the  same  in  coloring,  and  the 
features,  too,  were  alike,  but  Oh ! how  different 
the  expression ! Tatong  had  never  seen  a face 
so  tender,  so  gracious  as  that,  for  when  he  had 
been  getting  the  cash  she  saw  it  plainly.  The 
remembrance  of  it  now  was  like  a little  fire 
glowing  in  her  heart. 

She  was  awakened  from  her  dream  of  it  by 
the  surly  tones  of  the  man  from  whom  she  had 
bought  some  eggs. 

“Move  on,  and  don’t  be  blocking  up  the  way  so  ! 
Don’t  you  see  there  are  others  who  want  to  buy  ?” 

lie  almost  threw  the  eggs  at  her.  Had  they 
been  like  we  buy  eggs,  some,  if  not  most  of 
them,  would  surely  have  been  broken.  But  the 
Korean  eggs  were  fixed  in  such  a quaint  way. 
I am  sure  you  would  have  smiled  to  see  them. 


33 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

They  were  laid  end  to  end  and  wrapped  with 
straw,  which  was  tied  together  between  each 
eg-o-.  It  looked  like  a clumsy,  knotted  stick. 
And  how  do  you  think  Tatong  bought  them? 
Why,  she  bought  them  by  the  yard  and  not  by 
the  dozen  as  we  do. 

Before  one  of  the  booths  in  which  was  dis- 
played some  immense  sticks  of  pulled  candy 
stuffed  with  sesamum  seed,  Tatong  stopped, 
looking  at  it  longingly.  How  she  did  want  some 
of  it ! Oh ! it  did  look  so  good ! But  she  dared 
not  spend  any  of  the  “cash”  for  it.  Had  not  her 
mistress  counted  them  to  the  last  one  ? Some 
rude  boys  came  and  pushed  her  out  of  the  way. 
They,  too,  wanted  the  candy,  and  they  had  the 
money  with  which  to  buy  it.  They  jeered  at  her 
and  held  the  candy  before  her,  tantalizing  her. 

“Oh  ! shame  !”  said  a voice  at  that  moment,  but 
I think  no  one  heard  it  but  Tatong.  She  heard 
it  so  plainly  that  she  looked  up  quickly'  to  see 
whence  it  came.  The  nearest  person  to  her  was 
one  in  a mourning  hat,  a great  broad-brimmed 
hat  that  stood  out  from  his  head  like  an  um- 
brella, and  that  completely  concealed  the  face 
from  view  when  the  head  was  bent.  But  at  the 
moment  Tatong  looked  the  head  had  been  partly 
raised  and  the  eyes  were  regarding  her. 

She  started  in  wonder,  for  the  face  was  dif- 
ferent from  any  she  had  ever  seen  before.  It 


34  Taiong,  the  Little  Slave. 

was  fairer  and  more  delicate,  it  seemed  almost 
white.  She  knew  in  the  next  moment  that  it 
was,  and  felt  sure  that  it  belonged  to  one  of  the 
race  called  the  white  race.  She  had  heard  of 
these  people,  hut  until  to-day  she  had  never 
looked  upon  one.  He  dropped  his  head  again. 
Evidently  he  had  not  intended  that  his  face 
should  he  seen.  He  moved  near  the  booth,  and 
ere  Tatong  had  any  idea  of  what  he  intended  to 
do,  the  “cash'’  had  been  laid  down  for  one  of  the 
great  sticks  of  candy.  The  next  moment  it  was 
in  her  hand  and  the  stranger  had  gone. 

She  was  so  overcome  she  could  only  stand  and 
stare  at  the  great  mass  of  sweet  for  which  she 
had  so  longed.  Was  it  really  true?  Had  it 
been  given  her  ? She  felt  like  crying  out  in  her 
joy.  Oh ! she  must  find  the  mourning  stranger 
and  tell  him  how  glad  she  was  ! But  he  had  dis- 
appeared in  the  crowd,  and  though  she  hastened 
in  the  direction  he  had  taken,  she  saw  nothing 
of  him.  Then  she  remembered  that,  by  the  cus- 
tom of  her  country,  she  could  not  speak  to  one 
thus  attired  in  the  garb  of  sorrow.  When  a man 
in  Korea  went  abroad  in  one  of  these  mourning 
hats,  with  the  hempen  girdle  about  his  waist,  he 
must  neither  speak  nor  be  spoken  to.  He  had 
absolute  security  from  molestation  of  any  kind. 
He  could  not  even  be  arrested  for  a crime  while 
this  season  of  mourning  lasted.  Thus  one  walk- 


A KOREAN  CANDY  SELLER 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  35 

ing  under  tlie  shadow  of  one  of  these  great  um- 
brella hats  with  a piece  of  hempen  rope  for  a 
hatband,  which  denoted  mourning,  could  go  any- 
where undisturbed. 

The  strangest  part  to  Tatong  was  that  this 
mourning  one  had  not  been  a Korean.  Did  the 
white  race  have  these  mourning  customs  too  ? 

While  she  was  hurrying  along  looting  for  the 
mourning  stranger  she  almost  ran  over  old 
Kimri,  who  had  changed  her  crouching  place  by 
this  time  for  one  lower  down  the  street.  An- 
other step,  and  she  would  have  done  it.  As  it 
was,  she  just  caught  herself  in  time.  But  she 
stopped  with  such  a jerk  she  almost  lost  her  bal- 
ance. In  the  effort  to  recover  herself  she  threw 
out  the  hand  in  which  the  candy  was  grasped. 
Her  fingers  relaxed,  and,  alas,  the  candy  went 
tumbling,  not  to  the  ground,  hut  right  into  the 
lap  of  old  Kimri ! She  pounced  upon  it  in 
astonishment,  then  raised  her  head  to  see  whence 
it  came.  But  Tatong,  overcome  with  fright,  had 
dodged  around  her,  and  was  now  moving  through 
the  crowd  as  fast  as  she  could.  But  she  was  not 
so  far  away  that  she  did  not  catch  the  “He  ! he  !” 
and  the  “Ho ! ho !”  of  the  old  woman.  There 
was  a sob  in  her  throat  as  she  thought  of  her 
precious  stick  of  candy,  hut  she  would  rather 
have  lost  two  than  to  have  gone  back  to  face  old 
Kimri. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Poor  Tatoxg! 

A S TATOXG  had  finished  her  marketing 
AAA-  and  was  starting  home,  she  saw  again  the 
boy  who  had  been  so  kind  to  her.  She  tried  to 
get  near  him,  that  she  might  speak  to  him.  She 
did  want  so  much  to  tell  him  how  her  heart 
thanked  him,  and  had  thanked  him  from  the 
fii-st,  tliongh  she  had  been  too  overcome  by  her 
crying  to  give  him  even  a word  at  the  time. 
What  must  he  think  of  her  ? And  he  had  been 
so  different  from  the  others  ! She  felt  sure  there 
was  not  another  hoy  who  would  have  done  it,  at 
least,  not  in  Seoiil.  Pier  experience  with  boys 
had  been  to  receive  only  jeers  from  them  and  to 
be  tormented  in  all  sorts  of  mean  little  ways. 
But  this  boy  had  been  so  kind,  so  good  ! Oh  ! she 
must  speak  to  him ! She  must  tell  him  of  how 
glad  her  heart  was  because  of  what  he  had  done. 
1 lowever,  she  could  not,  for,  though  she  made  a 
brave  effort  to  get  through  the  crowd  to  where 
she  saw  him  standing,  he  was  gone  when  she 
reached  the  spot. 

At  one  of  the  corners  Tatong  had  to  stop  to 
36 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


37 


let  a funeral  procession  go  by.  It  was  that  of  a 
workman,  and  he  must  have  been  a man  of  some 
means,  for  it  was-  quite  an  imposing  display  for 
one  of  the  common  people.  First  came  four 
drums  and  a fife,  then  two  or  three  singers. 
The  drums  and  the  fife  were  making  all  the 
noise  that  could  he  gotten  out  of  them,  while  the 
singers  were  pouring  forth  a lively  song  at  the 
tops  of  their  voices.  Following  the  singers  was 
the  hearse,  a queer,  dome-shaped  affair,  with  a 
great  wreath  of  gaudy  artificial  flowers  wound 
around  it.  At  each  of  the  four  corners  there  was 
a flag,  and  thrown  across  the  center  of  the  hearse 
the  white  coat  that  had  been  worn  by  the  work- 
man in  life.  On  the  front  and  sides  of  the 
hearse,  by  way  of  ornament,  were  shield-shaped 
flags  of  coarse,  brilliantly-colored  muslin.  The 
hearse  rested  on  a kind  of  platform  made  of 
bamboo  poles  entwined  with  flowers.  It  was 
borne  by  eight  men.  Each  had  on  a peaked  yel- 
low hat  ornamented  with  blue  and  pink  flowers. 
Surrounding  the  hearse  were  men  walking  back- 
ward and  singing.  Every  now  and  then  they 
would  slap  their  hands  and  make  a shuffling 
movement  Avitli  their  feet.  The  chief  mourners 
followed.  There  were  two  of  them.  They  were 
completely  enveloped  in  sack-clotli.  On  their 
heads  were  the  great  umbrella  hats  wound  with 


38 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


rope-like  strands  of  liemp.  As  an  extra  shield 
from  the  gaze  of  the  piiblic  each  held  a sack- 
cloth screen  in  front  of  his  face  by  means  of  two 
handles  of  bamboo. 

Tatong  had  to  wait  several  minutes  for  the 
procession  to  pass,  for  it  seemed  this  workman 
had  had  a large  number  of  friends,  to  judge  by 
the  long  string  of  them  that  followed  him  to  his 
last  resting  place. 

A great  fear  now  began  to  take  possession  of 
the  little  slave.  She  knew  that  she  had  been 
gone  a long  while,  that  much  more  time  had  been 
taken  than  her  mistress  had  allowed.  The  en- 
counter with  the  rude  boys,  the  loss  of  the 
“cash,”  with  all  the  subsequent  events  had  de- 
layed her  considerably.  What  would  her  mis- 
tress say  ? Of  more  importance  still  to  poor 
Tatong,  what  would  she  do?  The  little  slave 
feared  it  meant  a beating,  and  her  heart  sank  ac- 
cordingly. Was  she  really  to  receive  the  stripes 
after  all  the  kind  stranger  had  done  to  keep  her 
from  them  ? 

Mrs.  Xi  was  a woman  of  a very  high  temper. 
She  had  never  forgiven  her  husband  for  bring- 
ing the  little  slave  to  their  home.  The  money  he 
had  paid  for  her  was  as  good  as  wasted  she  de- 
clared, since,  according  to  her  estimate,  Tatong 
was  both  stupid  and  lazy.  She  never  stopped 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


39 


to  consider  that  often  and  often  she  confused  the 
poor  child  by  contradictory  orders ; furthermore, 
that  she  expected  entirely  too  much  of  one  so 
small  and  weak.  The  little  slave  had  never  been 
a strong  child,  but  this  strength  might  have  been 
considerably  fostered  by  the  right  care  and 
thought.  But  as  it  was  poor  Tatong  had  had  to 
draw  ahead  of  its  resources  and  to  exhaust  her- 
self with  burdens  far  too  heavy  to  hear. 

Tatong  pressed  on  through  the  narrow,  dirty 
streets,  but  little  more  than  alley-ways,  with  the 
gutters  of  slime  on  either  side  and  the  low  mud 
hovels  with  straw  roofs  so  packed  together  that 
hut  for  their  queer  horseshoe-like  shape  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  tell  where  one  began  and 
the  other  ended.  Dogs  and  children  were  every- 
where, the  most  of  the  latter  half  naked  and  roll- 
ing about  in  the  filth,  many  of  them  in  much 
danger  from  the  feet  of  pedestrians.  It  was  a 
great  blessing  for  these  miserable  little  atoms 
of  humanity  that  there  were  no  oxen  and  ponies 
along  this  street.  The  life  would  have  been 
crushed  out  of  more  than  one  of  them  surely. 

Tatong  kept  on  imtil  she  came  to  a more  in- 
viting portion  of  the  city.  Here  some  of  the 
houses  were  of  stone  for  part  of  the  way  up  in- 
stead of  mud,  though  all  had  the  roofs  of  thatched 
rice  or  barley  straw.  The  house  of  Mr.  Hi  stood 


40 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


right  on  the  street.  It  had  a door  of  bamboo 
poles  opening  into  the  front  or  men's  apartment. 
To  the  right  of  it,  and  just  under  the  roof,  there 
was  a small  window  covered  with  glazed  paper. 
TIad  you  entered  this  apartment  you  would  have 
found  the  stone  floor  covered  with  mats,  and 
placed  about  the  blocks  of  wood  used  as  pillows 
and  the  cotton-wadded  bedclothes  now  folded  up. 
On  a small  table  there  were  some  artificial  flow- 
ers, and  hanging  from  the  rafters  two  or  three 
large  red  and  green  hat-cases  in  which  the  great 
hats  were  stowed  away  for  the  night.  The  par- 
titions were  of  bamboo,  and  the  floors  of  two  of 
the  other  apartments  were  of  a sun-baked  brick 
covered  with  glazed  paper  like  that  over  the  win- 
dow, only  thicker.  Underneath  these  floors  ran 
the  flues  from  the  “kang”  or  brick  oven.  It  was 
in  this  way  the  people  kept  warm  in  the  winter. 

Mrs.  Hi  was  in  the  kitchen.  She  was  just  be- 
ginning preparations  for  the  evening  meal. 
Hear  hv  were  the  ang-paks,  great  earthen  jars, 
in  one  of  which  grain  for  cooking  was  kept,  and 
in  the  other  water.  A man  could  easily  have 
hidden  in  either  one  of  them. 

Tatong  did  not  dare  enter  through  the  front 
apartment.  Some  of  the  men  might  have  been 
there,  and  that  would  not  have  done.  So  she 
went  to  the  side,  intending  to  make  her  way  to- 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


41 


ward  the  kitchen.  But  at  the  door  she  hesitated, 
her  heart  heating  loudly.  ]\Irs.  Xi  was  there 
she  knew.  Indeed,  she  could  hear  her.  She  was 
getting  the  fuel  for  the  fire.  That  was  always 
the  task  of  the  little  slave.  What  would  Mrs. 
Xi  say  now  that  she  had  come  too  late  to  do  it  ? 

Tatong  moved  a little  nearer  the  opening.  She 
could  see  Mrs.  Xi  very  well.  She  had  collected 
the  fuel  and  was  bending  over  the  ang-pah,  pre- 
paring to  dish  up  the  rice.  She  had  on  the  white 
cotton  dress  usually  worn  hv  Korean  women, 
with  large,  loose  sleeves.  It  fell  to  within  a foot 
or  so  of  her  straw  sandals,  and  between  them 
and  the  hem  of  the  robe  were  showing  the  loose, 
baggy  trousers.  About  her  waist  was  a girdle  of 
leather,  to  which  was  attached  a pouch  contain- 
ing the  various  small  articles  in  use  by  a house- 
wife. Korean  women  have  no  pockets,  neither 
do  they  wear  buttons.  Strings  and  girdles  take 
the  place  of  these.  Her  hair  was  twisted  in  a 
knot  at  the  top  of  her  head,  and  through  it  was 
run  a great  wooden  pin  gilded  over,  together 
with  several  smaller  ones  from  which  were 
pendant  various  rings  of  horn  and  brass. 

Tatong  could  delay  no  longer.  At  least,  she 
knew  it  was  best  not  to  do  so.  Sooner  or  later 
she  must  face  Mrs.  Xi.  Every  moment  but 
made  it  worse.  Kom,  the  baby  boy,  rolling  on 


42 


T along,  the  Little  Slave. 


the  floor,  was  the  first  to  spy  her.  He  began  to 
make  a gurgling  sound,  then  squeaked  forth  his 
delight.  He  at  least  was  fond  of  the  little  slave. 

Mrs.  Hi  looked  up  quickly. 

“So  you’ve  come  at  last !”  she  exclaimed. 
“Speak ! What  kept  you  ?” 

Her  face,  never  very  attractive,  was  now  cov- 
ered by  an  iiglv  scowl.  There  was,  too,  a threat- 
ening expression  about  her  lips.  Poor  Tatong, 
seeing  these,  began  to  tremble. 

“There  were  many  things,”  she  said.  “I  could 
not — .” 

“What  were  they?”  demanded  Mrs.  Hi,  inter- 
rupting her. 

“O  madam,  the  crowd  was  great,  and  there 
were  many  rude  boys.  They  pushed  me  about 
and  delayed  me.” 

Although  she  had  received  the  “cash”  back 
from  the  kind  stranger,  still  Tatong  did  not  have 
the  bravery  to  tell  Mrs.  Hi  of  the  loss  of  the 
coin.  She  would  call  it  carelessness,  she  knew, 
and  she  would  be  beaten  for  that  as  well  as  for 
staying.  In  that  case,  the  beating  would  be  a 
double  one. 

“That’s  a poor  excuse,”  said  Mrs.  Hi.  “How, 
I ask  you  again,  what  kept  you?”  and  the  scowl 
deepened. 

“There  was  a funeral,”  answered  Tatong.  “It 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  43 

was  long  in  passing.  I could  not  get  by  as  I de- 
sired.” 

“Yeither  of  those  things  would  have  kept  you 
so  long.  You  have  not  told  me  the  right  story 
yet,  and  I shall  beat  you  for  that  as  well  as  for 
staying  all  this  time.  You  could  have  gone  to 
the  market  and  back  twice  over.  I know  you, 
you  little  wretch !”  she  continued,  now  showing 
her  teeth  in  her  anger.  “You  love  to  play  on 
the  streets.  You  are  filled  with  curiosity.  You 
gaze  about.  You  must  see  everything.  Here  I 
must  wait  your  pleasure,  while  you  stand  and 
stare  about.  What  is  more,  I must  do  your 
work  myself.  Yo;  I cannot  put  up  with  this. 
Set  the  things  down  and  come  here.  Yow  give 
me  the  bamboos.  Mind  you  get  them  all.  One 
or  two  will  not  do.” 

“Oh!  please,  madam,”  cried  Tatong,  bursting 
into  tears,  “please  do  not  beat  me.  I will  tell 
all.” 

“I  don’t  want  to  hear  anything  from  you  now. 
Why  didn’t  you  tell  it  at  first?  But  I know 
very  well  what  it  would  be  if  you  were  let  talk. 
It  would  be  about  things  you  stopped  on  the 
street  to  see.  I haven’t  time  now  to  listen  to 
such.  Why  didn’t  you  speak  when  I gave  you 
the  chance  ? Come,  bare  your  back.” 

“O  madam,  madam,  please  strike  me  through 


44  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

the  robe.  Please  do  not  beat  me  on  mv  naked 
back.” 

“Yes,  beat  lier  on  lier  naked  back !”  cried  a 
voice  at  this  moment.  “It  will  be  sucli  fun,  and 
I am  sure  she  deserves  it.” 

The  words  came  from  Fuyu,  the  youngest 
daughter  of  Mrs.  Xi,  a girl  of  fourteen.  She 
was  standing  in  the  opening  between  the  middle 
apartment  and  the  kitchen.  Her  purpose  was 
evidently  to  enjoy  the  scene. 

“O  madam,”  plead  Tatong,  now  prostrate  be- 
fore Mrs.  Xi,  “my  back  is  still  sore.  The  cuts 
have  not  healed  from  the  last  beating.” 

“So  much  the  better,”  said  the  cruel  voice 
again.  “You  will  feel  it  all  the  more,  and  you 
will  learn  to  do  better.  Pull  off  the  robe  as  you 
are  told.  If  you  don’t  I’ll  come  and  jerk  it  off 
your  lazy  back  myself!  You  bear?” 

“Yes,  take  off  the  robe,”  said  Mrs.  Xi  firmly. 
“You  deserve  a beating  you  will  long  remember. 
This  is  about  the  worst  you  have  ever  done  in 
the  way  of  staying.  You  shall  not  forget  it.” 
Poor  Tatong!  There  was  now  no  help  for  it. 
The  robe  must  come  off.  Ob ! what  a pitiful 
sight  it  was  as  lier  back  came  to  view,  all  cut  and 
scarred,  and  still  with  festering  sores ! Mrs. 
Xi’s  heart  must  have  been  of  stone  that  she  could 
look  upon  it  unmoved.  Harder  still,  if  that 


45 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

could  be,  was  that  heart  since  it  could  lend  sanc- 
tion to  the  arm  that  now  sent  such  cruel  blows 
raining  down  upon  the  poor  wounded  back. 

Tatong  writhed  and  moaned  under  the  tortur- 
ing pain.  She  dared  not  cry  out,  for  then  she 
would  have  been  beaten  all  the  more  to  make  her 
hush. 

Kom  now  began  to  cry  with  Tatong.  He 
toddled  to  his  mother,  and  tried  to  catch  her  arm 
by  its  flowing  sleeve  so  that  he  could  pull  it  down 
and  stay  the  work  of  the  cruel  canes.  All  the 
while  he  was  protesting  against  it  vigorously  in 
his  babv  language.  Had  he  been  an  American 
baby,  bis  words  would  have  been,  "Stop!  stop! 
Don’t  beat  my  poor  Tatong !” 

How  unlike  was  the  conduct  of  Fuyu,  hard, 
cruel  Fuyu ! She  encouraged  every  blow  given 
by  her  mother.  She  had  a taunt  for  every  one 
of  poor  Tatong’s  moans. 

“Serves  you  right,”  she  said.  “What’s  the  use 
of  having  a slave  if  you  can’t  beat  her  and  make 
her  mind  ? I’m  sure  you’ll  not  poke  so  much 
again  when  you  go  into  the  streets.  How,  will 
you  ?” 

As  Mrs.  Hi  laid  by  the  cruel  canes  poor  Ta- 
tong fell  over  all  in  a heap  from  pain  and  weak- 
ness. She  had  almost  fainted  from  the  torture. 
She  had  scarcely  the  strength  to  pull  up  her  robe 


40  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

again  over  her  bleeding  shoulders.  It  was  Kom 
who  helped  her,  Kom  who  all  the  while  was 
stroking  her  face  with  his  chubby  forefinger, 
and  pitying  her  in  his  baby  way.  Hot  more  than 
five  vears  hence  and  he  would  be  getting 
ashamed  of  showing  any  gentleness  even  to  his 
mother  and  sisters,  let  alone  to  a slave.  But, 
happily  for  Kom,  not  yet  had  his  heart  grown 
hardened  in  the  Korean  domestic  school.  He 
was  still  a baby  and  his  heart  was  tender. 

Mrs.  Hi  did  not  leave  Tatong  to  remain  long 
undisturbed  in  the  corner  to  which  she  bad 
crawled.  She  went  to  it  shortly  and  gave  her  a 
shove  with  her  foot. 

‘"'Get  up,”  she  said  roughly,  “and  go  and  pre- 
pare the  rice.” 

In  Korea  three  meals  are  eaten  a day.  The 
breakfast  meal  is  rather  a light  one.  Opan , or 
mid-day  rice,  is  much  heavier.  So,  too,  is  the 
evening  meal,  which  is  eaten  just  about  the  time 
the  evening  star  rises.  The  amount  of  food  one 
family  can  consume  is  enormous,  for  the  Ko- 
reans, men,  women  and  children,  are  very  vo- 
racious eaters.  One  eater  will  think  nothing  of 
consuming  at  one  sitting  a half-gallon  howl  of 
stewed  beef,  together  with  a quart  vessel  full  of 
rice. 

Suffering  as  she  was,  poor  Tatong  had  the 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


47 


evening  meal  to  prepare.  Occasionally  Mrs.  Hi 
or  Euyu  looked  in  to  taunt  her  or  to  spur  her  to 
increased  speed  by  stinging  words.  She  was 
glad  when  at  last  Chansa,  Mrs.  Hi’s  daughter- 
in-law,  came  in.  She  was  so  much  kinder.  Her 
heart  really  pitied  the  poor  little  slave,  and  she 
helped  her  in  every  way  she  could.  Chansa  her- 
self had  a hard  time,  so  she  knew  how  to  pity 
through  her  own  experience. 

“You  can  leave  me  the  rice,”  said  Chansa. 
“I  will  mind  it.  I will  also  fix  the  ginseng 
water  and  the  tables.”1 2 

Tatong  looked  at  her  gratefully,  then  sank 
down  in  a corner,  her  poor  cut  and  bruised  hack 
giving  her  so  much  pain  she  could  not  keep  hack 
the  tears  as  she  rocked  to  and  fro. 

The  tables  were  brought  out  and  set — little 
round  tables,  only  a foot  and  a half  from  the 
floor,  one  for  each  sitter.  Instead  of  cloths  they 
had  spread  over  them  pieces  of  oiled  paper.  The 
rice  was  served  in  bowls.  Beside  the  bowls  on 
each  table  there  were  some  glazed  earthen-ware 
vessels  containing  taro ? dried  persimmons  and 
other  things.  Each  sitter  had  besides  his  chop- 
sticks a spoon  or  two  made  of  horn.  In  this  the 
Koreans  are  ahead  of  the  Chinese,  who  do  not 
use  spoons. 


1 In  Korea  a favorite  drink  is  ginseng  in  rice  water. 

2 Potatoes  cooked  with  meat. 


48 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


When  the  meal  was  announced  the  men  came 
in,  each  in  a great  hurry.  They  were  the  three 
sons  and  the  son-in-law  of  Mr.  Xi.  Mr.  Xi  him- 
self was  away.  They  took  their  positions,  each 
at  a table  and  squatting  on  his  heels.  Then  they 
fell  to  eating  with  all  their  might.  Such  noise 
as  they  made ! for  the  Koreans  think  that  if 
they  do  not  make  a great  noise  it  shows  that 
they  do  not  appreciate  their  food.  Therefore, 
the  louder  the  noise  they  make,  the  greater  their 
appreciation.  They  also  eat  all  they  can  hold. 
It  is  no  uncommon  occurrence  for  one  who  has 
overeaten  to  have  to  use  what  is  known  as  a 
stomach  paddle.  This  is  a small  instrument  of 
wood,  by  means  of  which,  it  being  used  briskly 
over  the  surface  of  the  bulging  stomach,  a more 
even  distribution  of  the  food  is  given. 

When  the  men  had  eaten  and  gone  then  the 
women  took  their  places  at  the  tables.  Through 
some  kindly  maneuvering  on  the  part  of  Chansa, 
Tatong  had  been  allowed  to  lie  undisturbed  in 
her  corner.  After  the  coming  of  the  men  to  the 
apartment  she  had  not  dared  to  utter  a sound. 
Their  attention  would  have  been  drawn  to  her 
had  she  done  so,  and  they  would  certainly  have 
asked  what  it  was  about,  and  tliey  might  have 
ordered  her  beaten  again,  especially  the  oldest 
son  of  Mr.  Xi,  who  was  now,  according  to  the 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  49 

rule,  the  head  of  the  household  in  the  absence  of 
his  father. 

When  the  women  came  to  the  tables  to  eat  the 
kind-hearted  Chansa  started  to  call  Tatong  to 
get  her  share,  but  Mrs.  Xi  stopped  her. 

“She  is  not  to  have  anything,”  she  said  firmly. 
“She  does  not  deserve  it.” 

Tatong  heard  the  words,  hut  they  did  not  have 
the  effect  upon  her  Mrs.  Xi  desired  and  ex- 
pected. She  did  not  care  that  food  had  been  de- 
nied her.  Her  heart  was  too  full  to  mind  it. 
How  could  she  he  hungry  with  that  choking  feel- 
ing in  her  throat  and  her  back  aching  so  it  made 
her  sick  almost  to  faintness? 

But  throughout  all  her  misery  and  torture 
there  rang  the  sweet,  precious  words  she  had 
heard : 

“There  is  One  who  cares,  God,  your  Father. 
He  pities,  he  sympathizes,  he  even  loves  you.” 

Yes,  there  was  “One  who  cared !”  What  joy 
that  brought  to  her  heart ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 

“God,  the  Father." 

THE  next  day  Tatong  was  so  ill  she  really 
could  not  so  much  as  get  up  from  her 
hard  bed.  Mrs.  Hi  had  finally  to  recognize  that. 
She  could  only  have  the  satisfaction  of  abusing 
her,  for  even  her  hard  heart  could  not  bring  her 
to  use  the  rods  so  soon  again  on  the  weak  and 
wretched  Tatong,  though  she  felt  like  doing  it. 

Fuyu,  as  usual,  following  out  her  mean  in- 
stincts, came  in  to  taunt  her  and  to  torment  her 
in  every  way  she  could.  She  even  threw  pieces 
of  mochi  all  about  Tatong  so  that  Layo,  the  pet 
monkey,  and  a vicious  little  beast,  might  scram- 
ble over  her  in  his  efforts  to  get  them.  Every 
time  his  sharp  claws  caught  hold  of  Tatong’s 
clothing,  piercing  to  the  skin,  she  flinched  or 
moaned  outright  with  the  pain.  It  was  Kom 
who  put  an  end  to  this  cruel  performance.  He 
gave  Layo  a blow  with  his  chubby  fist  that  sent 
him  rolling  away  from  Tatong.  Then  he  estab- 
lished himself  beside  her,  her  gentle  and  loyal, 
if  not  strong,  defender.  Soon  he  lay,  with  his 
tousled  head  close  against  her,  and  asleep,  and 
50 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  51 

she  would  not  have  disturbed  him  for  anything, 
not  even  to  ease  her  strained  and  aching  body 
by  taking  another  position.  Some  one  else,  too, 
came  to  sympathize  with  her,  this  some  one  hav- 
ing tousled  hair  all  over,  Kijun,  the  little  gray 
and  black  woolly  dog.  He,  too,  loved  her;  he, 
too,  snuggled  down  beside  her;  he,  too,  would 
have  defended  her  to  the  last,  but  he  had  not 
Korn’s  showing  of  authority  in  the  household. 

Though  Tatong  was  so  weak  and  sore  in  body, 
she  was  still  active  in  mind.  As  she  lay  there 
she  could  hear  the  men  talking  in  the  front 
apartment.  Some  neighbors  had  come  in,  and 
while  they  all  sat  around  on  their  heels  and 
smoked  their  long  pipes  they  talked,  their  voices 
getting  loiidcr  and  louder  as  the  speakers  grew 
more  and  more  excited.  There  seemed  to  be 
two  subjects  in  which  they  were  taking  consider- 
able interest.  One  was  the  war  then  in  progress 
between  China  and  Japan  with  reference  to 
Korea,  and  the  other  that  of  some  teachers  who 
had  come  to  teach  a new  doctrine  called  the 
“ Jesus  Doctrine.” 

As  Mr.  Ni  was  then  away  with  the  Chinese 
army,  of  course  his  sons  took  the  part  of  China, 
as  did  by  far  the  larger  number  of  Koreans.  But 
one  of  the  neighbors  was  warmly  on  the  side  of 
J apan. 


52 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“I  tell  you  the  Japanese  are  our  friends,”  he 
declared.  ‘‘They  mean  nothing  hut  good  to  us 
in  this  Avar.” 

‘“I  don’t  see  how  you  can  say  that,”  asserted 
Mr.  Yin,  Mr.  Yi’s  oldest  son,  hotly.  “The  Jap- 
anese are  our  enemies,  I tell  you.  They  have 
been  that  for  years.  Have  we  not  every  evi- 
dence of  it  ? They  are  treacherous  and  cruel. 
Can  you  so  soon  forget  the  ear-mound  ?’n 

“Yo;  I have  not.  But  that  was  long  years 
ago.  Men,  as  well  as  things,  change  with  time. 
The  Japanese  have  now  shown  themselves  our 
friends.  They  have  conducted  themselves  as 
such  ever  since  they  entered  Seoiil.  I believe 
their  conquest  of  China — and,  mark  me,  they 
will  conquer — means  the  dawn  of  a better  day 
for  Korea  in  every  way,  better  government,  bet- 
ter schools,  better  trade.” 

There  was  a sharp  wrangle  over  these  words, 
hut  the  man  sustained  his  position  well.  How- 
ever, the  neighbor  who  had  accompanied  him, 
seeing  whither  things  were  drifting,  had  the 
tact  to  turn  the  conversation,  and  thus  get  mat- 
ters quieted  down  again. 

The  talk  now  turned  on  the  teachers  of  the 

1 A mound  that,  during  one  of  the  earlier  wars,  the 
Japanese  erected  out  of  the  ears  taken  from  Korean  cap- 
tives. 


TWO  KOREAN  GENTLEMEN  AND  THEIR  SERVANTS. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  ' 53 

new  “Jesus  Doctrine.”  They  had  been  in  the 
city  quite  a while,  although  there  were  no;  so 
many  who  knew  it.  Just  at  present,  it  seemed, 
they  were  having  a hard  time,  because  they  had 
been  accused  of  taking  babies  to  slay,  so  that 
their  blood,  if  offered  up,  might  appease  the  God 
of  the  “Jesus  Doctrine.”  They  had  even  been 
seen  picking  up  the  babies.  It  is  true  they  were 
abandoned  babies.  But,  then,  what  else  did  they 
want  with  them  if  not  to  slay  them  ? There  was 
also  a school  where  they  taught  girls.  Think  of 
that ! Mr.  Ko  freely  gave  vent  to  his  disgust  as 
he  mentioned  it. 

“They  actually  try  to  teach  them,”  he  said 
with  scorn.  “The  idea  of  a woman  or  a girl  be- 
ing able  to  learn  anything  so  difficult  as  a book 
or  a doctrine.  Why,  you  might  as  well  try  to 
teach  the  ponies,”  and  Mr.  Ko  sniffed. 

All  the  others  agreed  with  him.  A school  for 
girls!  Astonishing!  Ridiculous!  Why,  where 
in  Korea  could  fathers  be  found  so  slack  and  so 
foolish  as  to  let  their  girls  attend  such  a place  ? 

Tatong’s  heart  leaped  at  the  words.  A school 
for  girls  ! Could  it  he  possible  there  was  such  a 
thing  ? She  wondered  how  it  could  be,  how  they 
were  given  anything  to  learn,  and  in  what  way 
it  was  managed.  Were  they  really  treated  as 
creatures  of  sense,  as  though  they  had  under- 


54 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


standing  ? Oli ! liow  she  longed  to  see  such  a 
place!  What  did  it  look  like ? What  did  those 
who  were  there  do  ? Were  they  allowed  to  talk, 
to  say  what  they  pleased  ? Oh ! what  a sweet 
place  it  must  he  if  that  were  so ! if  they  were 
treated  kindly,  if  they  were  encouraged  to  speak. 

“And  what  does  this  Jesus  Doctrine  teach?” 
asked  Mr.  Yin  suddenly  of  Mr.  Ivo. 

“It  seems  to  teach  many  things.  I don’t  be- 
lieve the  teachers  know  half  themselves,  though 
they  pretend  to  have  so  much  to  tell.  But  there 
is  one  thing  I have  heard  that  I think  very  won- 
derful.” 

“What  is  that  ?” 

“This  doctrine  teaches  of  hut  one  God.  He  is 
so  powerful  he  reigns  over  all  the  earth  as  well 
as  heaven.” 

“ Ha-na-nim  V’  said  Mr.  Yin  quickly. 

“Ho,  not  Ha-na-nim.  He  is  greater  even  than 
II a-na-nim.  They  call  him  God,  the  Father.” 

Tatong’s  heart  gave  such  a leap  at  that  it 
seemed  it  must  come  right  out  through  her  poor 
little  frail  body.  “God,  the  Father!”  Why, 
that  was  the  very  one  of  whom  the  kind  stranger 
had  told  her.  It  was  the  “One  who  cared.”  Oh  ! 
if  she  only  knew  how  to  get  a message  to  him ! 
Oh ! surely  he  could  not  know  all  that  she  suf- 
fered ; how  she  needed  him  ! If  he  did,  would  he 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


55 


not  send  a message,  just  one  little  word,  to  show 
he  was  thinking  of  her  ? that  he  was  pitying  her  ? 
Oh ! she  must  see  the  kind  stranger  again.  She 
must  ask  him  about  this  One  who  cared,  this  One 
who  was  her  Father,  this  One  who  did  not  want 
her  to  suffer.  If  he  would  only  come  and  speak 
to  her.  If  he  would  only  say  two  words,  “Poor 
Tatong !” 

As  she  thought  again  of  what  Mr.  Ko  had 
said  her  heart  sank.  This  God,  the  Father,  was 
very  powerful.  He  ruled  over  both  earth  and 
heaven.  Could  it  be  expected  then  that  he  would 
be  her  Father  ? Her  Father,  and  she  a poor,  lit- 
tle wretched  slave ! Mo,  no,  it  could  not  be ! 
The  kind  stranger  had  surely  been  mistaken, 
lie  was  not  her  Father.  She  was  too  low  for  him 
to  notice.  At  these  thoughts  poor  Tatong’ s 
tears  welled  forth  and  rolled  down  upon  her 
wooden  pilloAv.  Oh  ! how  could  she  give  up  that 
sweet  thought  of  One  who  was  her  Father  ? Oh  ! 
she  could  not ! She  must  go  to  see  the  kind 
stranger  at  the  pagoda.  He  had  said  that  she 
must  come.  She  would  pick  her  chance.  She 
would  go  if  only  for  a few  moments,  if  only  long 
enough  to  ask  him  how  it  was  that  a poor,  little, 
wretched  slave,  as  she  was,  could  have  a Father, 
a Father,  too,  who  was  so  great  and  so  powerful. 
It  was  all  so  wonderful,  it  seemed  well-nigh  im- 


56 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


possible  that  it  could  be  true.  And  be  was  not 
only  a Father,  but  he  was  a Father  who  cared. 
The  kind  stranger  had  said  so,  and  he  must 
know.  Oh ! this  was  such  a rare,  such  a beauti- 
ful thing,  a Father  who  cared,  who  loved  her, 
though  she  was  only  a wretched  little  girl,  a 
slave. 

Another  incident  of  that  day  was  the  coming 
of  the  “go-between,”  the  old  woman  who  was 
making  the  match  between  Fuyu  and  Mr.  Kibi. 
It  was  hoped  the  wedding  would  soon  occur. 
Fuyu  was  full  of  airs  and  self-consciousness. 
As  Tatong  looked  at  her  she  wondered  that  if 
Mr.  Kibi  knew  just  how  dreadful  she  could  be, 
if  be  would  really  want  the  “go-between”  to  suc- 
ceed in  the  match. 

Tatong  had  been  up  only  a day  or  so  and  was 
hardly  able  to  walk  about  when  Mrs.  Ki  told 
her  the  clothes  must  be  washed.  They  had  al- 
ready waited  too  long. 

Washing  is  one  of  the  big  undertakings  of  the 
women  and  girls  in  Korea.  They  spend  fully 
one-half  the  time  ripping  the  clothes  apart, 
washing,  ironing,  and  putting  them  together 
again.  The  men  are  very  particular  about  the 
whiteness  of  their  clothes,  and  in  some  families 
the  washing  and  ironing  must  be  done  as  often 
as  three  times  a week. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


57 


“Come,”  said  Mrs.  Mi,  as  with  Chansa  she  ap- 
proached Tatong,  “we  must  go  and  do  the  wash- 
ing. We  took  the  clothes  to  pieces  while  you 
were  lying  up  resting  your  lazy  body.  Mow  they 
must  be  washed.” 

It  was  a long  distance  to  the  stream  where 
Mrs.  Mi  and  Chansa  washed,  for  they  were  very 
particular  about  getting  the  best  water  they 
could.  That  in  the  ditches  nearer  the  home, 
with  which  some  women  washed,  was  entirely 
too  slimy  and  bad-smelling  for  them. 

They  started  off,  Tatong  having  a large  part 
of  the  burden  of  the  clothes  to  bear.  But  the 
kind-hearted  Chansa,  despite  Mrs.  Mi’s  protest, 
relieved  her  of  some  of  them  on  the  way. 

“I  think  she  is  not  able  to  carry  so  much,” 
said  Chansa.  “She  really  seems  weak.” 

“She  is  putting  some  of  it  on,”  declared  Mrs. 
Mi.  “You  do  not  know  her  as  I do.  Oh ! she  is 
a sly  one !” 

Tears  started  to  Tatong’s  eyes,  for  she  had 
heard  the  words.  Oh!  why  did  Mrs.  Mi  think 
thus  of  her  ? Coidd  not  she  see  that  she  was 
really  faint  and  weak?  And  how  sore  her  poor 
back  was  still  from  that  terrible  caning?  IIow 
was  she  ever  going  to  be  able  to  beat  and  pound 
the  clothes  as  they  had  to  be  done?  If  Mrs.  Mi 
would  only  have  more  pity,  if  she  would  only 


5S  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

wait  for  her  back  to  heal ! Chansa’s  kindness 
sent  a warm  thrill  of  gratitude  through  her 
heart.  She  resolved  she  would  do  all  she  could 
to  deserve  it.  She  would  help  Chansa  whenever 
she  could,  for  Chansa,  too,  had  a hard  time  with 
Mrs.  m. 

They  overtook  or  passed  many  women  going 
in  the  same  direction,  like  themselves  each  laden 
with  her  great  bundle  of  clothes.  It  seemed  to  be 
one  of  the  general  washing  days.  Even  small 
children  were  trudging  along  bearing  the  bun- 
dles. In  addition  to  the  clothes  each  washer  had 
a small  paddle  of  wood  a foot  or  a foot  and  a 
half  in  length  and  three  or  four  inches  wide.  It 
was  with  these  paddles  the  clothes  were  beaten. 

After  .a  while  they  came  to  the  stream.  All 
around  were  stones  worn  smooth,  on  which  the 
paddling  of  many  previous  washings  had  been 
done. 

Mrs.  Xi,  Chansa,  and  Tatong,  squatting  on 
their  heels  beside  the  water,  scooped  out  each  a 
hollow  place  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  so  as  to 
make  a kind  of  pool  in  which  the  clothes  could 
be  dipped.  After  that  they  went  regularly  to 
work  at  the  washing.  They  first  soaked  the 
clothes  in  the  water,  then  they  placed  them  on 
the  smooth  stones,  and  forthwith  proceeded  with 
the  paddles  to  beat  out  the  dirt.  As  they  pad- 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


59 


died  away  they  kept  time  as  though  to  a tune. 
Indeed,  Chansa  was  humming  away  at  one  in 
her  heart,  though  her  lips  scarcely  made  a sound. 
As  for  Tatong,  poor  Tatong!  her  heart  was  too 
heavy  and  too  sad  and  her  back  too  sore  for  her  lips 
to  give  vent  to  anything  save  to  a moan  of  pain. 

“Bap ! rap !”  went  the  paddles,  and  now  and 
then  each  paddler  changed  her  paddle  from  one 
hand  to  the  other  without  losing  a stroke.  If 
you  had  been  there  you  would  have  wondered 
how  she  could  have  done  it. 

Soon  Tatong  felt  that  she  could  not  make  an- 
other stroke,  at  least  not  until  she  had  had  some 
ease  of  rest  for  her  poor  aching  back.  The  pad- 
dle slipped  from  her  hand,  and  she  fell  with  a 
gasp  of  pain  all  in  a heap  upon  the  grass. 

“Lazy  thing !”  cried  Mrs.  Hi.  “Why  do  you 
stop?  Take  up  your  paddle  again  and  go  on 
with  the  beating.’’ 

But  Chansa  interposed. 

“Let  her  rest  a while,”  she  plead.  “I  am 
sure  she  has  beaten  all  she  can  right  now.  See 
how  bad  she  looks.  I will  do  double  share,”  and 
seizing  Tatong’s  paddle  as  well  as  her  own,  she 
began  to  beat  with  both  hands  as  fast  as  ever 
she  could. 

Tatong  looked  at  her  gratefully,  then  lay 
down,  her  head  resting  against  a stone.  How 


60 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


beautiful  was  the  sky ! of  the  deepest,  brightest 
blue,  through  which  the  sun  shone  as  though  it 
had  sifted  little  sparkling  hits  of  gold  all  over 
it.  There  were  only  tiny  specks  of  cloud  here 
and  there  no  bigger,  it  seemed,  than  a handful 
of  fleece  when  the  shearer  clips  it.  from  the 
sheep.  On  the  hillsides  the  azaleas  were  in 
bloom,  and  in  and  out  among  them  flitted  the 
birds  and  the  bees  and  the  butterflies,  the  former 
singing  so  it  seemed  they  could  not  tell  the  flow- 
ers loud  enough  how  glad  they  were  that  there 
was  so  much  of  color  and  beauty  and  sweetness 
all  around. 

Tatong  turned  her  eyes  again  to  the  sky.  It 
must  he  somewhere  up  there  that  God,  the 
Father,  lived.  There  was  no  other  place  high 
enough  and  bright  enough  and  beautiful  enough. 

Ha-na-nim,  she  knew,  lived  above  the  earth. 
Then  if  this  God,  the  Father,  were  greater  even 
than  Ila-na-nim,  he  must  live  beyond  where 
Ha-na-nim  lived,  away  up  where  the  sky  was 
brightest  and  deepest  and  bluest.  When  Tatong 
had  decided  this  in  her  mind  again  came  the 
overwhelming  thought,  If  this  God,  the  Father, 
were  so  great,  so  powerful,  then  he  could  not  he 
her  Father.  Oh  ! no,  no ! A miserable  little  slave 
and  a girl  like  she  vTas  could  never  have  such  a 
F ather. 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  61 

She  began  to  sob  in  the  wretchedness  and  bit- 
terness of  her  heart.  Then  Mrs.  Hi  ordered  her 
back  to  work,  and  she  had  to  still  her  sobs  and 
take  up  the  paddle  again.  But  all  through  the 
dull  “rap-rap-rap-rap  !”  of  the  paddle  rang  the 
words,  “Oh ! he  is  not  my  F atker ! It  cannot 
be !”  Then  would  come  the  thought,  “But  did 
not  the  kind  stranger  say  that  he  was,  and  does 
he  not  know  ? Oh ! I must  go  and  see  him  and 
let  him  tell  me  more.” 

In  about  two  hours  time  they  had  finished  the 
clothes  and  had  them  spread  out  on  the  grass  to 
dry  and  whiten  in  the  sun.  They  would  let 
them  partly  dry  in  this  way.  Then  they  would 
be  taken  home  for  complete  drying  by  being 
hung  on  the  clothes  line  above  the  house. 

Mrs.  Hi  and  Chansa  started  home  before  Ta- 
tong. They  left  her  with  some  of  the  thicker 
pieces  that  had  not  yet  dried  sufficiently.  Ta- 
tong remained  for  an  hour  or  more  after  they 
left  her,  until  the  sun  lacked  but  a short  time  of 
setting.  Then  she  arranged  her  clothes  in  a 
bundle  and  started  homeward. 

As  she  was  passing  along  one  of  the  narrow 
streets  she  almost  ran  against  the  same  woman 
and  ox  with  whom  she  had  had  the  previous  en- 
counter on  the  market  day.  This  time,  fortu- 
nately, the  woman  was  walking  ahead  and  some 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


(12 

paces  in  front  of  the  ox,  so  there  was  no  danger, 
as  there  had  heen  before.  But  she  ran  so  close 
to  the  woman  ere  she  saw  her  that  they  came  in 
rather  sharp  collision. 

“You  again !”  exclaimed  the  woman.  “Well, 
it  seems  you  never  have  any  eyes  in  your  head ! 
First  you  try  to  get  Mokpo  to  walk  over  you, 
and  now  you  run  into  me ! You  must  want  to 
he  hurt.  If  so,  let  me  say  you’ll  get  your  wish 
before  long.  You’ll  not  find  all  so  careful  as 
Mokpo  and  I.  Where  are  you  going,  anyhow  ?” 
she  asked  rather  abruptly. 

“I  am  going  home,”  answered  Tatong  faintly, 
for  she  was  nearly  out  of  breath  with  the  walk 
and  the  weight  of  the  clothes  together. 

“A  pretty  big  bundle  that  you  have !”  stop- 
ping short  to  eye  it.  “You  can’t  carry  it  very 
well,  now  can  you  ?” 

“ISTo,”  said  Tatong,  “I  cannot.  You  see  T 
have  heen  very  sick,  and  I am  not  well  yet. 
Then—.” 

At  the  word  she  paused  suddenly,  while  her 
glance  fell  from  the  woman’s  face  to  the  ground. 

“Then  what  ?”  questioned  the  woman  looking 
at  her  closely. 

“I  do  not  know  that  I ought  to  tell  you,”  re- 
plied Tatong,  her  voice  so  faint  now  the  woman 
had  to  bend  her  head  to  catch  the  words. 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


63 


“You  can  tell  me,”  she  said,  kindness  as  well 
as  persuasion  in  her  tone.  “Hakta  never  yet 
told  anything  to  get  any  one  into  trouble.” 

“I  have  had  a beating,”  said  Tatong  in  the 
same  low  tones. 

“I  thought  so,”  declared  Hakta. 

“It  was  right  on  the  sores  of  the  other  one,” 
continued  Tatong,  her  voice  now  breaking  into  a 
sob,  “and  Oh  ! my  back  does  hurt  so  !” 

“It’s  a shame!”  declared  ISTakta  warmly. 
“Even  Mokpo,  beast  as  he  is,  wouldn’t  hurt  you, 
no,  not  even  a hair  of  your  head.  Had  you  done 
anything  to  deserve  it  ?” 

“It  was  because  of  the  time  I stayed  out  the 
day  I met  you,  the  day  of  the  market.  Oh ! I 
could  not  help  it!  First,  there  were  the  cruel 
boys  who  did  me  so  about  the  cash.  Then  a fune- 
ral came,  and  I could  not  cross  the  street  until  it 
had  gone.” 

“Your  mistress  beat  you  for  that  ? Then  she 
is  a bad  one,  and  I would  not  stay  there  if  I 
were  you.  I would  run  away.  Why  don’t 
you  ?”  and  again  the  woman  put  her  face  down 
nearer  to  Tatong’ s as  she  asked  the  question. 

“Oh ! there  would  be  no  place  to  go.  Ho  one 
would  have  me.  I am  of  so  little  good.  Mrs. 
Hi  says  so,  and  she  must  know.” 

“Try  it,”  said  Hakta.  “There  is  the  country. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


64 

Plenty  of  people  there  who  would  like  the  help 
of  a slave  like  you,  and  would  not  beat  her 
either.  There  is  the  road  out  from  the  Great 
South  Gate,  the  one  that  strikes  along  the  bed 
of  the  river,  and  thence  to  the  mountains  be- 
yond Chung ju.  Have  you  ever  travelled  that 
road  ?” 

“Ho,”  said  Tatong. 

“But  you  know  where  the  South  Gate  is  ?” 

“O  yes,  I know  where  the  South  Gate  is.” 
“Then  almost  any  one  outside  the  gate  can  put 
you  in  the  right  road.  You  have  hut  to  follow  the 
river  till  you  come  to  the  two  shrines  with  the 
miriolcs.1  Hot  far  beyond  these  is  a village, 
where  there  are  many  orchards  and  chestnut  and 
mulberry  trees.  Just  where  the  chestnuts  are 
thickest  you  turn  and  go  up  a hill — you  can  see 
the  path  plainly — then  down  between  two  others, 
and  there,  not  far  away,  is  the  home  of  Hakta 
and  Mokpo.  Who  knows  but  that  they  may  tell 
you  of  some  one  who  would  be  glad  to  have  a lit- 
tle slave  and  not  heat  her  either  ?” 

“Oh !”  said  Tatong,  and  catching  her  breath 
hard,  “if  I only  could  go,  hut  I cannot.  They 
would  follow  me  and  catch  me  and  heat  me  all 
the  more.” 

1 Stones  rudely  carved  in  grotesque  resemblances  of 
human  beings. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  65 

“But  how  would  they  know  which  way  you 
went  V’ 

“'Mrs.  ]STi  would.  Oh ! she  would  he  sure  to. 
She  can  find  things  out  so.” 

They  had  withdrawn  to  one  side  of  the  narrow 
street  to  talk.  Tatong  had  put  the  heavy  bundle 
of  clothes  down  protected  by  its  outside  wrap' 
ping.  Mokpo  had  advanced  until  he  stood  with 
his  head  almost  on  a level  with  his  mistress’ 
shoulder.  His  eyes  were  half  closed  and  he 
seemed  to  be  engaged  in  nothing  more  important 
than  in  contentedly  chewing  his  cud.  But  not 
so.  Mokpo  was  listening;  I assure  you  that  he 
was.  At  the  moment  his  mistress  was  giving 
the  little  slave  such  close  directions  with  refer- 
ence to  the  turning  at  the  chestnuts  and  the  find- 
ing of  the  home  of  Xakta  and  Mokpo,  he  had 
gently  swayed  his  head  up  and  down  as  much 
as  to  say,  “Yes,  sir.” 

Mokpo  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  Ko- 
rean oxen,  gentle,  docile  and  intelligent.  He 
was  large  and  stately.  He  showed  it  in  his  man- 
ner as  well  as  in  his  size.  He  thought  nothing 
of  carrying  three  hundred  to  four  hundred 
pounds  upon  his  hack.  His  color  was  a rich, 
warm  red,  relieved  here  and  there  by  a spot  of 
white.  The  gloss  of  his  hair  gave  evidence  of 
care  and  attention  as  well  as  of  good  feeding. 


66  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

Like  other  Korean  gentlemen,  Hokpo’s  suit  re- 
ceived regular  attention  in  the  way  of  scrub- 
bing and  smoothing.  His  large,  soft  eyes  could 
turn  upon  you  with  the  greatest  friendliness  and 
trust,  but  if  you  ever  betrayed  that  trust,  look 
out ! They  could  flash  then  in  a way  you  would 
remember,  and  his  great  cushion  of  a foot  come 
down  upon  the  ground  in  the  most  emphatic  pro- 
test. 

‘‘I  must  go  now/’  said  Tatong  suddenly.  ‘“Oh  ! 
I am  afraid  I have  stayed  too  long ! But  I do 
thank  you  for  all  you  have  said  to  me.” 

She  stooped  to  get  the  bundle  of  clothes,  and 
tried  to  raise  it  as  before.  But,  somehow,  her 
strength  was  not  equal  to  it.  Her  hands  slipped 
away,  and  in  the  movement  to  recover  herself, 
she  gave  her  shoulders  such  a twist  as  sent  a 
moan  of  pain  to  her  lips. 

“Why,”  said  the  woman,  “I  don’t  believe 
you’ll  be  able  to  go  on  with  the  clothes.  How 
did  you  ever  manage  to  get  this  far  with  them  ?” 

“Oh  ! I hardly  know,”  murmured  Tatong.  “I 
knew  I had  to.” 

“How  far  is  it  to  the  home  of  Hr.  Xi  ?”  Xakta 
asked  suddenly. 

Tatong  told  her. 

“Oh  1 that  isn’t  so  far  for  Hokpo,  but  it  is  a 
great  distance  for  you.  So,  Hokpo  will  carry  the 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


67 


clothes,  while  yon  walk  beside  him  and  talk  to 
him.  That  is  all  the  pay  he  will  ask.  Mokpo 
likes  to  be  talked  to.” 

Ere  Tatong  was  hardly  aware  of  her  intention 
she  had  reached  out,  taken  hold  of  the  clothes, 
and,  with  one  swing  of  her  sturdy  arms,  had 
sent  them  flying  up  to  the  great  pack-saddle  on 
Mokpo’s  back. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Home  Life  of  the  Little  Slave. 

OH,”  said  Tatong  as  she  saw  the  clothes 
deposited  on  Mokpo’s  broad  hack,  “you 
surely  do  not  mean  what  you  say  ? You  really 
will  not  go  with  me  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Xi  ?” 
“Yes,”  declared  Xakta  firmly,  “I  will  go 
with  you  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Xi.  You  cannot 
carry  the  clothes,  so  Mokpo  will  carry  them. 
His  back  is  so  much  bigger  than  yours,”  and  she 
laughed.  “It  is  not  sore  either,”  she  added  in 
graver  tones. 

“But  Oh  ! what  will  they  do  with  me  if  they  see 
you  ?”  cried  Tatong.  “They  have  told  me  never 
to  make  acquaintances  on  the  streets.” 

“O  ho!”  said  Xakta,  “I  know  why  that  is. 
They  are  afraid  you  will  be  told  some  things 
they  would  rather  you  wouldn’t  hear.  But 
come.  I will  promise  not  to  go  where  they  can 
see  me.” 

“Oh ! I am  afraid  you  will  he  late  if  you  do 
what  you  say  you  will,”  said  Tatong  solicitously. 
“Y  our  home  is  a long  way.  How  can  you  reach 
it  to-night  ?” 


68 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


69 


“I  do  not  expect  to  reach  it  to-night.  I am 
going  just  outside  the  gate.  There  I will  stop 
until  morning  with  one  I know.” 

“How  mean  they  must  be  to  you,”  said  Yakta 
as  they  went  along.  “Do  none  of  them  care  for 
you  ?” 

“Yo,”  said  Tatong,  “none  of  them  do  except 
Chansa,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Yin,  and  Kom.  But 
Chansa  herself  has  a hard  time,  and  Kom  is 
only  a baby.  Yes,”  added  Tatong  suddenly,  and 
with  such  a change  in  her  tone  it  made  Yakta 
turn  quickly  to  look  at  her,  “there  is  another  who 
cares,  another  who  is  sorry  every  time  they  heat 
me,  but  I do  not  know  where  he  is.  I do  not 
know  how  to  find  him,  so  that  I may  tell  him.” 
“Did  he  go  away  and  leave  yon  ? Then,  if  he 
did,  I do  not  think  he  cares,”  said  Yakta  posi- 
tively. 

“Yo;  he  did  not  go  away,”  replied  Tatong. 
“He  has  never  been  with  me.  I have  never  seen 
him.  Oh  ! I want  so  to  find  him  now!” 

“Why,  how  then  conld  he  know,  how  could 
he  care,  if  he  has  never  seen  you,  if  he  has 
never  been  with  you  ?” 

“Oh ! I cannot  tell  how  it  is,  but  there  is  one 
who  does  know,  and  who  will  tell  me  soon.  He 
is  so  kind  and  so  good.  I saw  him  the  very  day 
I saw  you,  the  day  I went  to  the  market.  The 


TO 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


One  who  cares  is  very  great  and  powerful,  even 
more  powerful  than  Ha-na-nim.  They  call  him 
God,  the  Father.  Have  you  ever  heard  of 
him  ?” 

“Ho,”  said  Hakta  slowly,  and  looking  very 
much  astonished,  “I  have  not.” 

“Oh ! think  real  hard.  Perhaps  you  will  re- 
member that  you  have.  They  may  have  told  you 
about  him  and  you  have  forgotten.  You  have 
so  much  the  better  chance  to  hear  than  I have.” 
But  Hakta  was  sure  she  had  never  heard  of 
the  One  called  God,  the  Father.  It  was  a very 
wonderful  thing,  and  she  wanted  to  know  more. 

“He  cares  for  women  and  girls  as  well  as  he 
does  for  hoys  and  men,”  continued  Tatong,  “and 
Oh ! he  cares  for  me  because  he  is  my  Father !” 
This  was  the  thought  uppermost  with  her  now, 
and  what  a light  it  caused  to  glow  upon  her  face  ! 
What  a radiance  there  was  in  her  heart!  For- 
gotten for  the  time  was  the  hitter  one  that  he  so 
great  and  so  powerful  could  not  he  her  Father. 

“You,  too,  must  go  to  the  Marble  Pagoda,”  she 
continued  to  Hakta,  “you,  too,  must  hear  what 
the  kind  stranger  has  to  tell  of  God,  the  Father. 
He  is  not  only  my  Fathex*,  hut  he  is  the  Father 
of  others.  “Oh !”  turning  her  face  suddenly  to 
Hakta,  “maybe  he  is  your  Father,  too.” 

“Ho,”  said  Hakta,  “He  could  not  he.  Hakta’s 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  71 

father  is  where  the  spirits  are.  He  was  very 
hard  and  cruel.  Hakta  would  not  want  to  see 
him  again.” 

Still  more  Tatong  told  Hakta  about  God,  the 
Father,  and,  ere  they  parted,  she  had  won  from 
her  the  promise  to  go  to  the  Marble  Pagoda ; 
that  is,  if  she  could. 

Hakta  was  careful  to  do  as  she  had  told  Ta- 
tong she  would.  She  did  not  go  where  anyone 
within  Mr.  Hi’s  house  could  see  her.  But  she 
went  near  enough  for  Tatong  to  have  only  a 
short  distance  to  stagger  with  the  bundle  of 
clothes. 

The  little  slave  found  that  the  mid-day  meal, 
opan,  had  long  since  been  eaten.  Mrs.  Hi  de- 
clared there  was  nothing  for  her  now.  She  had 
been  such  a lazy  poke  she  did  not  deserve  it. 
She  ought  to  have  been  home  with  the  clothes 
more  than  an  hour  ago,  when  something  would 
have  been  given  her.  How  she  did  not  deserve 
it.  But  Chansa  had  saved  a portion  of  her  own 
rice,  which  shortly  she  smuggled  to  Tatong. 
They  Avere  in  the  kitchen  at  the  time,  and  Ta- 
tong had  just  finished  eating  when  Mr.  Yin,  the 
husband  of  Chansa,  came  in.  lie  wanted  some- 
thing of  her.  He  began  his  request  by  saying, 
“Yabu That  meant,  “Look  here!”  and  is  the 
way  in  which  Korean  husbands  address  their 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


72 

wives.  They  never  call  them  wife,  nor  give 
them  any  title  of  respect  or  of  endearment.  Xot 
even  do  they  address  them  by  their  names,  if 
they  have  one.  To  outsiders,  also,  the  woman  is 
not  known  by  her  name,  but  as  the  wife  of  Mr. 
So-and-so. 

The  next  day  there  was  the  ironing  to  do, 
which  Avas  almost  as  hard  as  the  washing. 

“Where  are  the  clubs  ?”  asked  Mrs.  Xi  as 
soon  as  the  kitchen  work  for  the  morning  Avas 
over. 

Xow,  you  must  not  think  Mrs.  Xi  Avas  going 
to  do  anything  very  Avarlike.  The  clubs  for 
which  Mrs.  Xi  called  were  the  ironing  clubs. 
These  were  of  Avood  and  about  a foot  and  a half 
in  length.  Instead  of  being  flat,  as  were  the  pad- 
dles Avith  AA'hicli  the  clothes  were  beaten,  they 
Avere  round,  in  shape  ATery  much  like  our  base- 
ball bats.  Soon  it  developed  that  Kom  had  had 
them.  By  dint  of  much  coaxing  he  was  brought 
to  tell  where  they  Avere.  He  had  taken  them  out 
to  roll,  so  as  to  see  Lavo  leap  after  them.  Here 
AA’as  more  labor  for  Tatong,  for  the  clubs  AA-ere 
very  dirty  and  had  to  be  cleaned.  Kom  shoAved 
his  contrition  by  offering  to  help  her ; hut,  as  he 
retarded  the  AA’ork  more  than  anything  else,  she 
was  glad  enough  to  dispense  with  his  seiwices. 

The  “ironing  tables”  were  noAv  brought  out. 


.A  UN  DRY  WORK  IN  KOREA. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


73 


What  funny  ones  they  were ! They  were  not 
really  tables.  They  were  only  wooden  or  iron 
rollers  about  six  inches  in  diameter.  Around 
each  of  these  an  article  to  be  ironed  was  wrap- 
ped. Then  Mrs.  dST i and  Tatong  took  up  the 
clubs.  “Rat-ta-tat-tat !”  they  went,  striking 
against  the  garment  on  the  iron  cylinder.  You 
would  have  thought  they  meant  to  beat  it 
through  and  through.  But  not  so,  the  strokes 
fell  with  such  evenness  and  dexterity  the  gar- 
ment was  not  injured,  but  was  given  a beautiful 
smoothness  and  gloss.  Sometimes  Mrs.  Hi  and 
Tatong  each  beat  alone  upon  the  garment,  using 
two  clubs;  again  both  beat  upon  it,  the  four 
clubs  coming  down  one  after  the  other  with  won- 
derful precision  and  regularity. 

While  the  ironing  was  at  its  height  there  was 
a squeal  from  Kom,  then  another  and  another. 
He  was  lying  on  the  floor  rolling  and  kicking. 
He  had  eaten  too  much  rice  at  the  morning  meal. 
In  fact,  he  had  stuffed  himself  so  that  his  bulg- 
ing stomach  was  now  giving  him  much  pain. 

“Get  the  paddle,”  said  Mrs.  Hi  to  Chansa. 

Chansa  knew  well  what  Mrs.  Hi  meant. 
There  was  a small  wooden  paddle  hanging  on  the 
wall.  It  was  very  much  like  the  washing  pad- 
dles, though  not  so  large.  This  was  Korn’s  stom- 
ach paddle,  and  had  been  often  used  before.  But 


74  T along,  the  Little  Slave. 

as  Chansa  approached  him  he  began  to  scream 
louder  and  louder  than  ever.  He  wanted  Ta- 
tong, and  none  other  would  do.  Mrs.  Hi  had  at 
last  to  send  Tatong.  She  placed  the  squirming 
Kom  on  his  back  across  her  lap,  and  began  to 
move  the  paddle  hack  and  forth,  gently  at  first, 
across  his  stomach,  with  a movement  quite  like 
that  of  kneading  dough.  This  was  done  that 
the  food,  which  had  collected  in  a great  mass, 
might  be  more  evenly  distributed.  Korn’s  cries 
grew  weaker  and  weaker  and  finally  ceased. 

The  next  thing  was  to  send  Kom  off  to  sleep, 
and  this  was  not  hard.  Tatong  laid  aside  the 
paddle,  and  with  her  hand  began  to  tap  lightly 
upon  his  stomach,  her  fingers  coming  down  one 
after  the  other  with  regular  movement.  Accom- 
panying this  she  made  a little  humming  sound 
with  her  lips,  saying  the  word  over  and  over, 
“To-tak!  to-tak!”  Korean  babies  have  no  crad- 
les, and  this  is  the  way  they  are  put  to  sleep  by 
the  “ to-talc , to-tak  ” a tapping  and  humming. 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone  to  sleep  Tatong  laid 
Kom  over  on  his  mat,  with  the  small  block  of 
wTood  under  his  head.  Even  thus  early  does  a 
little  Korean  begin  to  get  used  to  the  hard  way 
of  sleeping. 

It  was  nearly  time  for  the  evening  star  to 
come  ere  they  finished  the  ironing.  Then  Mrs. 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  75 

Hi  told  Chansa  to  go  and  hull  the  rice. 
This  had  to  he  done  with  a rough  box  as  a mor- 
tar and  a stone  rudely  shaped  into  the  form  of  a 
pestle.  It  was  hard  work,  even  harder  than  the 
ironing,  and  much  slower.  It  took  them  until 
dark  to  hull  enough  for  the  morning  meal. 

While  they  were  pounding  away  Dong,  the 
son  of  Mr.  Hi,  a lad  of  fifteen,  came  out  to 
watch  them  and  to  twit  Tatong  with  her  awk- 
wardness and  slowness. 

Had  you  seen  him  you  would  surely  have 
taken  him  for  a girl.  He  wore  a robe  very  much 
like  Chansa’s,  and  it  was  girdled  about  the 
waist  as  hers  was.  His  hair  was  divided  in  the 
middle  and  hung  in  two  plaits  down  his  hack.  He 
wore  no  hat,  for  in  Korea  boys  rarely  wear  a hat 
until  they  are  married.  It  is  then,  too,  they  do 
their  hair  up  in  a knot  on  the  top  of  their 
heads. 

“A  tortoise  could  go  faster,”  he  said  jeeringly 
to  Tatong.  “He  could  go  to  the  east  and  go  to 
the  west  while  you  are  turning  round.” 

Tatong  said  nothing.  It  was  not  customary 
for  a woman  or  girl  in  Korea  to  answer  back, 
even  when  thus  rudely  addressed.  She  must 
keep  her  mouth  shut  even  if  worse  things  were 
said. 

But  Dong  did  not  long  remain.  He  passed 


76 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


on  to  the  next  house,  whither  he  was  going  in 
search  of  his  friend,  Ping,  who  lived  there. 

That  very  evening  Tatong  heard  more  won- 
derful things.  Mr.  Ko  and  the  two  other  neigh- 
bors came  in.  They  were  much  excited  over  fur- 
ther news  about  the  doctrine  that  taught  of  God, 
the  Father.  Jesus  was  the  Son  of  God.  God 
had  been  very  angry  with  the  people  in  the 
world,  and  so  Jesus  had  come  to  die  for  them. 
In  this  manner  God’s  anger  had  been  taken 
away.  He  would  not  now  destroy  as  would  77  a- 
na-nim;  neither  was  he  stern  nor  cruel.  lie  was 
instead  the  tender  and  loving  Father  to  all  who 
obeyed  him.  There  were  things  he  had  said 
that  must  be  done.  To  whoever  did  them  the 
Father  would  make  himself  known  and  would 
give  to  that  one  not  only  honor  hut  riches.  This 
was  the  part  that  excited  Mr.  Ivo  and  the  others 
so  much.  What  were  these  things  that  God,  the 
Father,  had  said  must  he  done?  If  they  could 
find  out  might  they  not,  too,  have  of  the  honor 
and  the  riches  ? It  Avas  surely  worth  trying,  and 
they  declared  they  Avere  going  to  find  out  more 
about  it.  It  also  greatly  excited  Tatong,  Iioav 
much  her  flushed  face  and  loudly-heating  heart 
attested.  Oil ! AAdiat  were  these  things  that  God,  the 
Father,  had  said  must  be  done,  and  that  then  he 
AA'ould  make  himself  knoAvn  to  those  who  did 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


77 


them  ? If  only  she  knew,  how  quickly  would  she 
do  them ! She  must  find  out.  She  must  learn 
how  to  win  this  loving  Father  to  make  himself 
known  to  her. 

Even  while  the  men  were  talking  in  the  next 
apartment  had  news  was  brought.  There  had 
been  a battle,  a heavy  battle,  and  the  Chinese 
army  had  been  badly  beaten.  Many  hundreds 
of  men  were  said  to  be  lost.  There  were  moans 
and  groans  in  the  front  apartment,  mingled  with 
the  wails  of  Mrs.  X i and  her  daughters,  who  had 
heard  all.  Mr.  Kim,  one  of  the  neighbors,  has- 
tened away  to  offer  sacrifice  before  his  ancestral 
tablets.  The  gods  were  surely  angry.  They 
must  be  appeased.  Mr.  Yin,  too,  declared  it  his 
intention  to  follow  Mr.  Kim’s  example.  His 
father,  for  all  he  knew,  might  be  among  the 
slain.  What  kind  of  a son  would  he  he  if  he  did 
not  at  once  proceed  to  show  all  the  grief  and  all 
the  respect  he  could  ? 

He  had  already  prostrated  himself,  his  head 
upon  the  floor.  How  he  would  divest  himself 
of  his  clothing,  and  instead  array  himself  in 
sack-cloth  from  head  to  foot ; so,  too,  must  Mr. 
Hi’s  other  sons.  Kice,  fruit  and  other  things 
were  brought ; even  to  the  parings  of  nails  and 
wisps  of  hair.  Then  the  rush  lights  were  set  to 
burning,  and,  bearing  them,  the  silent  procession 


78  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

sought  the  tablets.  Mr.  Yin,  who  was  at  the 
head,  carried,  in  addition  to  his  light,  a small 
wand  of  oak  about  two  feet  or  two  feet  and  a half 
in  length.  This  was  to  be  used  in  driving  out  the 
demon  or  had  spirit,  if  it  was  decided  that  one 
was  anywhere  near  the  tablets.1  There  was 
also  an  empty  bottle  into  which  the  demon  was 
to  he  driven.  It  was  then  to  be  tightly  corked 
and  hurried  away  to  the  river  into  which  it  was 
to  be  thrown. 

They  advanced  to  the  tablets  and  presented 
the  offerings.  Then  Mr.  Yin  prostrated  him- 
self before  that  of  his  grandfather  and  grand- 
mother, burning  hits  of  yellow  paper  marked 
with  red  ink,  which  were  said  to  be  of  great 
charm  against  bad  spirits.  When  this  was  fin- 
ished he  beo-an  to  hunt  for  the  evil  spirit  with 
his  stick,  hoping  to  find  it  and  drive  it  into  the 
bottle.  But  he  could  feel  nothing  he  thought 
was  the  evil  spirit.  The  charms  would  not  per- 
mit him  to  overcome  it.  In  despair  he  gave  it 
up,  saying, 

“In  the  morning  we  will  send  for  a mutang.” 

By  this  he  meant  a sorcerer,  one  who  dealt  in 
magic. 

1 The  Koreans  are  great  believers  in  evil  spirits,  or 
demons.  Their  principal  form  of  religious  worship,  if 
they  can  be  said  to  have  any  at  all,  is  demon  worship. 


T along,  the  Little  Slave. 


79 


In  the  morning  the  mutang  came.  She  was  a 
forbidding  looking  creature.  Her  face  was  all 
wrinkled  and  drawn,  and  she  had  lost  most  of 
her  teeth.  But  she  came  in  spotless  white,  and 
she  brought  with  her  a drum  and  drummer. 
The  noise  of  the  drum  was  to  frighten  the  spirit 
and  to  give  her  control  of  it.  She  had  a wand 
cut  from  a pine  tree,  and  to  it  was  fastened  a 
sheet  of  white  paper.  This  she  drew,  or  rather 
waved,  in  a circle  all  around  the  tablets.  Then 
she  tore  from  it  a small  portion,  which  she 
rolled  into  a tube.  This  she  placed  in  a bowl 
and  set  on  fire,  muttering  a kind  of  chant  over 
it  as  she  did  so.  The  other  portion  she  soaked 
in  wine  and  threw  up  to  a beam  of  the  house, 
where  it  lodged.  A small  handful  of  rice  thrown 
after  it  adhered  to  it,  or  that  is,  the  most  of  the 
grains  did.  All  this  time  the  drum  was  beating 
loudly  and  the  drummer  stamping  about  the 
room  with  all  the  violence  he  could  command. 

The  mutang  now  demanded  her  money,  say- 
ing that  she  had  gotten  rid  of  the  evil  spirits,  or 
at  least,  she  had  placed  them  where  they  could 
do  no  further  harm.  The  one  she  had  sent  away 
in  the  fire,  and  the  other  was  lodged  on  the  beam 
with  the  paper,  to  which  the  rice  adhered.  It 
could  not  come  down  again  unless  she  gave  it 
permission. 


80 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


After  the  mutang  went  away  there  was  more 
worship  in  front  of  the  tablets,  and  the  offering 
of  mochi  as  well  as  rice  and  fruits.  Mr.  Yin 
kept  on  his  suit  of  sack-cloth,  and  throughout 
the  house  mourning  for  Mr.  Mi  continued  until 
there  came  certain  word  that  he  was  safe.  In 
order  to  give  public  expression  to  their  joy  at 
this  news,  as  well  as  to  show  further  gratitude 
to  the  ancestors  for  not  being  angry,  Mr.  Yin 
ordered  that  a general  tomb-cleaning  must  take 
place. 

In  Korea  the  dead  are  buried  in  the  most 
beautiful  places  that  can  be  found.  A man  who 
has  spent  all  his  life  in  a mud  hut  may,  when  he 
is  dead,  occupy  a resting  place  on  some  com- 
manding hill,  with  a lofty  grassy  mound  raised 
in  his  honor  and  a slab  conspicuous  for  its  size. 
In  the  case  of  rich  men  considerable  space  is 
given  to  the  tomb,  and  no  one  must  bury  any- 
where near  to  it. 

Accordingly,  on  the  next  day  every  member 
of  the  family,  with  the  exception  of  Kom,  who 
was  left  with  a neighbor,  took  his  or  her  way 
to  the  burial  place  of  the  ancestors.  They  car- 
ried with  them  dippers,  buckets  and  straw  scrub- 
bers, also  food  to  put  on  the  tombs  when  they 
had  been  nicely  cleaned. 

Korean  monuments  are  principally  of  stone 
or  of  brick  masonry.  Sometimes  the  graves  are 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


81 


paved  with  granite  slabs.  Again  the  monument 
is  in  shape  like  an  obelisk,  and  at  the  top  is 
carved  a human  head,  or  now  and  then  that  of 
a bird  or  animal.  It  is  the  belief  that  the  soul 
of  one  who  has  been  gentle  on  earth  is  changed 
into  a bird,  and,  taking  its  abode  at  the  top  of 
one  of  these  monuments,  there  reposes  peace- 
fully- 

After  the  tomb  cleaning  Mr  Yin  seemed  to 
think  that  all  was  now  right  again,  so  the  house- 
hold fell  back  into  its  usual  way. 

All  this  time  Tatong  had  been  longing  and 
hoping  that  some  night  after  the  bell  for  the 
men  had  sotmded  she  would  be  sent  into  the 
streets.  Mrs.  Hi  had  often  done  this,  for  there 
were  many  errands  on  which  the  little  slave  had 
to  go.  But,  somehow,  she  had  not  been  sent  out 
alone  since  the  day  of  the  market,  when  she  had 
met  the  kind  stranger,  and  he  had  told  her  of 
the  Marble  Pagoda  and  what  he  went  there  to 
do.  Oh  ! if  she  could  only  go  there  one  time  ! if 
she,  too,  could  hear  some  of  the  things  that  were 
taught.  Once  or  twice  she  had  felt  almost  like 
stealing  away  without  being  sent.  But  that  she 
knew  would  not  do.  She  could  hardly  start  ere 
she  would  be  missed,  so  closely  did  Mrs.  Hi  keep 
watch  upon  her. 

But  soon  Tatong  was  to  have  her  heart’s  de- 
sire. Oh  ! the  joy  that  came  when  she  did  ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Kukdong. 

AT  HIRE  o’clock  every  evening  the  great 
bell  that  stands  under  its  little  pagoda- 
like temple  near  the  principal  market  place  of 
Korea  is  heavily  pounded  with  its  big  beam. 
This  is  what  is  called  the  men’s  night  bell,  or 
by  some  the  “curfew  hell.”  When  these  deep 
notes  sound  out  they  serve  as  a warning  to  all 
men  who  are  on  the  streets.  They  must  imme- 
diately seek  the  shelter  of  the  houses  and  leave 
the  way  clear  for  the  women,  many  of  whom 
have  not  been  out  before  in  the  twenty-four 
hours.  Should  a man  chance  to  he  detained  in 
reaching  his  home,  and  in  this  way  meet  one  or 
more  women,  he  must  at  once  cover  his  .eyes  by 
means  of  a fan  and  pass  them  wyith  head  bent 
down. 

Within  a few  minutes  after  the  ringing  of  the 
bell  the  women  leave  their  houses  and  come  out 
into  the  streets.  They  can  now  dispense  with  the 
ugly  green  coats  with  which  they  cover  their 
faces,  and  thus  enjoy  the  fresh  evening  air. 
When  the  moon  is  bright  they  need  no  other 
82 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  83 

light  by  which  to  see  to  make  their  way  from 
street  to  street;  when  it  is  not  shining  then 
they  carry  lanterns  in  which  rush  lights  burn. 
Often  the  woman  carries  the  lantern  herself, 
but  those  who  have  slaves  go  out  attended  by 
them,  and  they  bear  the  light. 

The  very  next  night  Tatong’s  heart  fairly 
bounded  as  Mrs.  Ni  told  her  to  prepare  to  go 
into  the  street  after  the  bell  sounded.  Tatong 
understood  that  she  was  to  go  alone,  and  thought 
after  thought  began  to  surge  through  her  mind. 
Oh ! was  she  really  to  see  the  kind  stranger 
again?  Was  she  to  hear  the  beautiful  things 
he  had  to  tell  ? Was  she  to  know  about  God,  the 
Father?  Were  all  the  matters  over  which  she 
had  wondered,  that  had  troubled  her  so,  were 
these  at  last  to  he  made  clear?  Never  mind 
where  Mrs.  Ni  sent  her,  or  on  what  kind  of  an 
errand  she  had  to  go,  she  would  manage  to  steal 
by  the  Marble  Pagoda,  if  it  were  only  for  a lit- 
tle while. 

But  alas ! all  Tatong’s  hopes  were  soon  rudely 
dispelled.  Mrs.  Ni  herself  was  going,  and  she 
only  wanted  Tatong  to  attend  her.  She  ordered 
her  to  get  the  lantern  ready  so  that  they  could 
start  the  moment  the  bell  sounded. 

The  little  slave  obeyed,  but  with  what  a de- 
jected heart!  If  Mrs.  Ni  went  what  chance 


84 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


would  there  be  for  her  to  get  even  a glimpse 
inside  the  Marble  Pagoda  ? Oh  ! now  she  would 
have  to  give  it  up  she  felt  sure.  She  could  not 
jet  see  the  kind  stranger  and  hear  what  he  had 
to  say.  Then  another  thought  came.  Perhaps 
Mrs.  Xi  herself  might  go;  perhaps  she,  too, 
would  like  to  hear  what  was  told  of  One  who 
had  so  kind,  so  gentle  a heart  toward  women. 
But  a dread  came  to  Tatong  following  the 
thought,  the  dread  of  telling  Mrs.  Xi.  She. 
knew  her  mistress  so  well,  her  quick  temper,  her 
hard  nature.  Might  she  not,  instead  of  deciding 
to  go,  grow  angry  with  Tatong  and  abuse  her  for 
even  having  contemplated  such  a thing  as  a 
visit  to  the  Marble  Pagoda  ? At  least,  it  so 
seemed  to  the  little  slave,  and  rather  than  bring 
about  herself  such  a storm,  she  decided  to  keep 
quiet.  It  might  he  that  sometime  when  she  felt 
braver  about  it  she  would  tell  Mrs.  Xi.  Al- 
though her  mistress  was  so  hard  and  so  cruel, 
Tatong  felt  that  if  there  was  any  good  and  help- 
ful thing  heard  at  the  Marble  Pagoda  she 
■wanted  her  to  have  part  in  it.  So  tender  and 
true  and  forgiving  was  the  heart  of  our  little 
slave. 

As  they  were  crossing  from  one  narrow  street 
to  the  other  Tatong  bent  her  eyes  searchingly 
through  the  shadows,  for  not  very  far  away,  she 


THE  GREAT  BELL  AT  SEOUL,  KOREA. 


85 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

knew,  was  the  Pagoda.  It  stood  in  rather  a se- 
cluded spot,  and  all  about  it  were  some  tumbled 
down  huts,  only  a few  of  which  were  now  in- 
habited. The  Pagoda  had  once  been  a very  tine, 
grand  structure,  thirteen  stories  in  height,  but 
three  of  them  had  been  taken  off  by  the  Japa- 
nese during  one  of  their  invasions.  It  was  more 
than  seven  hundred  years  old,  but  was  still  well 
preserved.  Inside  there  were  many  beautiful 
carvings,  but  the  whole  place  had  fallen  into 
such  disuse  it  was  rarely  ever  visited  now.  Ta- 
tong had  once  seen  children  playing  about  it, 
but  she  never  remembered  to  have  seen  grown 
people  entering  it  or  coming  from  it.  There 
were  many  who  believed  that  evil  spirits  lived 
there  now,  for  this  reason  they  would  not  go  near 
it.  Yet  the  kind  stranger  had  said  to  her  that  it 
was  there  he  went  to  tell  to  those  who  would 
come  the  beautiful  things  of  God,  the  Father. 
If  only  she  could  go  now  to  hear  some  of  them 
she  would  not  fear  the  bad  spirits.  The  bell 
had  rung,  so  the  people  must  he  there  now  listen- 
ing to  the  stranger. 

She  strained  her  eyes  through  the  dim  light, 
but  the  street  on  which  she  and  Mrs.  Ni  were 
now  walking  ran  in  such  a way  the  Pagoda 
could  not  be  seen,  because  of  its  position  beyond 
the  other  buildings. 


S6  Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 

Mrs.  Hi  extended  her  walk  until  she  came  to 
the  great  broad  street  that  runs  directly  across 
the  city  from  east  to  west.  This,  together  with 
the  other  wide  street  branching  off  from  it,  and 
which  runs  to  the  south  gate,  form  the  principal 
places  of  promenade  for  the  women,  when  the 
men  have  gone  away  from  it  at  night  and  traffic 
has  ceased.  Could  you  stand  where  you  could 
look  down  upon  these  streets  you  would  see  mov- 
ing along  them  at  these  promenade  hours  what 
look  like  drifting  masses  of  snow.  It  would  be 
the  white  garments  of  the  women. 

Mrs.  Hi  met  many  friends,  with  whom  she 
stopped  to  chat.  In  this  way  fully  half  the 
women  of  Seoiil  keep  up  their  friendly  relations, 
for  they  are  too  truly  slaves  to  the  ironing  cylin- 
der and  washing  paddle  to  have  much  time  for 
house  visiting. 

As  they  were  passing  again  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Marble  Pagoda,  Tatong' s heart  gave  a great 
bound.  It  seemed  to  her  it  went  right  into  her 
throat.  Some  figures  were  moving  away  in  a 
little  cluster  from  under  the  shadow  of  a house, 
and  among  them  Tatong  felt  sure  that  she  saw 
that  of  the  kind  stranger.  In  her  joy  and  sur- 
prise she  was  scarcely  conscious  of  what  she 
did.  She  had  turned  to  run  toward  them,  when 
the  sharp  voice  of  Mrs.  Hi  recalled  her  to  herself. 


87 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

“Why  have  you  turned  in  that  way  ? Why  do 
you  not  hold  the  lantern  so  that  it  will  give  me 
light  ?” 

All  hope  had  now  to  be  given  up  of  even 
speaking  to  the  kind  stranger.  Mrs.  TSTi  kept  her 
eye  upon  her  until  she  had  resumed  her  place 
near  to  her  and  had  again  brought  the  lantern 
forward  in  such  a way  that  the  rays  fell  across 
the  path  in  front. 

Two  days  later  great  excitement  went  through- 
out the  city  at  the  announcement  that  the  king 
would,  on  the  morrow,  go  in  great  state  to  offer 
sacrifice  in  one  of  the  ancestral  temples.  This 
passing  of  the  king  in  magnificent  procession, 
which  takes  place  usually  only  once  or  twice  a 
year,  is  knoAvn  as  the  Kurdong.  In  former 
years  the  people  had  not  been  permitted  to  look 
upon  it.  Prior  to  the  passing  of  the  king  they 
had  all  been  forced  to  retire  within  their  houses, 
with  the  exception  of  the  head  of  the  family, 
who,  crouched  upon  the  threshold,-  a broom  in 
his  hand,  kept  his  head  bent  down  until  it  seemed 
his  nose  must  be  touching  the  ground.  1ST o one 
was  allowed  to  even  peep  out  upon  the  pro- 
cession. Should  one  be  found  doing  so  severe 
indeed  was  the  punishment.  Sometimes  it  meant 
death.  For  the  king  is  considered  a sacred  per- 
son. Even  those  admitted  to  his  presence  have 


88 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


to  go  down  on  hands  and  knees  while  approach- 
ing him.  Bnt  of  late  the  king  had  grown  more 
gracious  to  his  subjects  with  reference  to  the 
Knrdong.  He  had  issued  a proclamation  that 
all  men,  women  and  children  might  now  look 
upon  the  procession,  the  higher  class  women 
through  the  little  openings  called  windows  in 
the  front  of  the  houses,  the  lower  class  from  the 
street.  This  gracious  permission  was  doubt- 
less given  because  of  the  troubles  that  had  come 
through  threatened  wars.  The  king  wanted  to 
draw  his  subjects  nearer  to  him. 

The  route  of  the  procession  was  from  the  pal- 
ace along  the  wide  street  leading  to  the  south 
gate.  By  daylight  of  the  morning  hundreds  of 
the  slaves  began  sprinkling  red  earth  through 
the  center  of  the  street,  while  detachments  of 
men  were  set  to  guard  it.  For  the  king  must 
not  pass  over  soil  on  which  so  low  a thing  as  the 
foot  of  one  of  his  subjects  had  pressed.  Along 
the  sides  of  the  streets  at  regular  intervals 
torches  ten  feet  in  height  had  been  placed. 
These  were  to  be  lighted  on  the  king’s  return 
from  sacrificing,  which  Avould  not  be  until  night. 

Early  in  the  morning  Mrs.  Hi,  her  daughters 
and  daughter-in-law  started  for  the  house  of  a 
friend  which  lay  along  the  route.  Tatong  had 
been  told  that  she  might  take  her  chances  in  the 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


89 


street,  but  if  she  failed  to  be  at  home  for  the 
cooking  of  opan , the  mid-day  meal,  she  knew 
what  she  would  receive. 

Even  at  that  hour  in  the  morning  the  streets 
were  crowded.  The  men,  the  children,  and  the 
poorer  class  women  were  hastening  to  get  good 
positions  on  the  main  thoroughfare.  Here  and 
there  through  the  crowds  could  be  seen  the 
bright  costumes  of  the  hoy  bridegrooms,  who,  by 
special  arrangement  between  parents,  had  been 
allowed  to  assume  man’s  estate  and  take  unto 
themselves  wives.  The  dress  of  these  young 
bridegrooms  consisted  of  rose-pink,  red,  or  blue 
coats,  and  high  yellow  hats. 

The  crowds  were  strangely  silent.  The  ex- 
citement that  would  naturally  be  looked  for  on 
such  an  occasion  was  lacking.  The  reason  of 
this  was  because  they  had  been  warned  against 
all  noise  and  demonstration.  It  was  a sacred 
occasion,  and  as  such  they  must  regard  it. 

By  eight  o’clock  the  people  wTere  packed  in  a 
great  mass  on  either  side  of  the  street.  They 
were  kept  from  pressing  too  near  the  center  by 
men  who  constantly  moved  back  and  forth  with 
long  wooden  paddles  in  their  hands,  which  they 
brought  down  unmercifully  upon  the  head  or 
shoulders  or  other  part  of  the  body  of  the  one 
who  chanced  to  be  out  of  line.  Squadrons  of 


90 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


cavalry  were  along  the  route,  where  they  had 
been  stationed  to  preserve  order.  Many  of  them 
had  dismounted,  so  as  to  rest  themselves  from 
the  straight,  disagreeable  saddles,  and  were  now 
squatting  on  the  ground  smoking  and  chatting, 
while  the  ponies  either  did  the  guard  duty  them- 
selves or  bit  each  other,  kicking  and  squealing  in 
a shameful  manner. 

Suddenly  a cannon  was  fired,  then  a bugle 
sounded  in  a long,  loud  call.  This  was  to  an- 
nounce that  the  procession  had  left  the  palace. 
In  a moment  all  was  stir  and  confusion,  the  sol- 
diers scrambled  to  get  back  to  their  ponies,  the 
crowds  craning  their  necks  and  moving  as  near 
as  they  could  to  the  magic  line  of  red  down  the 
center  of  the  street. 

First  came  men  hearing  poles  gaily  decorated 
and  ornamented  with  brass  rings,  which  they 
tossed  up  and  down,  giving  forth  a sharp,  me- 
talic  sound.  Following  them  came  the  drum- 
mers with  their  queer,  howl-shaped  drums  hung 
horizontally.  They  carried  immense  sticks, 
which  they  moved  to  and  fro  in  front  of  them 
and  up  and  doAvn  about  their  heads ; hut  only 
now  and  then  did  they  bring  them  down  on  the 
drums,  and  only  with  a muffled  sound.  Behind 
the  drummers  marched  a squad  of  soldiers. 
Such  a strange  uniform  they  had  ! If  you  could 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  91 

have  seen  it  you  would  have  wondered  how  they 
ever  moved  about  and  did  soldier  duty  in  it.  It 
consisted  of  a loose  black  frock  with  wide  sleeves, 
belted  about  the  waist  with  a leather  girdle 
adorned  with  a brass  clasp,  baggy  trousers,  pad- 
ded socks,  and  straw  shoes.  The  soldiers  seemed 
to  be  a kind  of  advance  guard  for  the  palace  at- 
tendants, hundreds  of  whom  now  moved  past  in 
brown  cloaks  with  glazed  sleeves,  blue  under- 
robes,  and  trousers  tied  near  the  ankles  with 
pink  or  red  ribbon.  They  had  stiff  black  hats 
ornamented  with  bunches  of  ribbon  and  with  the 
feathers  of  the  peafowl.  Some  were  borne  in 
chairs,  others  were  on  ponies  led  by  coolies. 
These  riders  presented  a comical  sight  perched 
on  saddles  that  were  a foot  or  more  above  the 
ponies’  backs.  They  stood  erect  in  their  stir- 
rups, their  feet  not  more  than  half  way  down 
the  ponies’  sides.  Behind  them  came  the  high 
officers  in  handsomely  ornamented  chairs,  at- 
tended by  many  servants,  or  on  magnificently 
caparisoned  ponies,  with  banner  men  bearing 
silk  flags,  each  with  the  name  and  rank  of  the 
official.  These  dignitaries  wore  robes  of  orange 
or  of  mazarine  blue  silk  and  wide  crimson  trou- 
sers fastened  about  the  ankles  with  knots  of 
gaily-colored  ribbon.  Their  black,  liigh-crowned 
hats  were  weighted  down  with  ornamentation, 


92  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

having  long  crimson  tassles  behind  and  heavy 
ostrich  plumes  falling  in  front.  They  were  se- 
cured to  the  head  of  the  wearer  hy  throat  latchets 
of  amber  beads. 

All  at  once  the  great  hell  began  to  sound  forth. 
This  was  the  signal  that  the  king  was  near.  At 
the  same  moment  the  cavalry  that  had  been  sent 
to  guard  the  streets  began  a singular  maneuver. 
This  was  to  turn  the  tails  of  their  ponies  toward 
the  procession.  Tor  this  was  the  way  in  which 
they  were  required  to  receive  the  king.  So,  too, 
the  waiting  masses  must  turn  their  backs,  and 
what  they  saw  of  the  king  and  his  grandeur 
must  he  had  through  the  side  of  the  eye. 

Preceding  the  king  came  the  general  of  the 
army.  Such  gorgeousness,  such  color,  such  dis- 
play ! He  was  fairly  loaded  with  decorations, 
and  so  surrounded  hy  banners  he  looked  like  a 
picture  in  a frame.  His  pony  was  not  only  led, 
hut  the  general  himself  had  to  be  held  in  the  sad- 
dle hy  servants  walking  on  either  side,  for  he 
was  so  weighted  doAvn  with  clothing  that  he 
could  not  sit  steadily,  hut  swayed  from  side  to 
side.  Hundreds  of  soldiers  followed  him,  some 
on  foot,  others  riding.  There  were,  too,  many 
banner  men  and  another  company  of  drummers 
and  fifers.  These,  unlike  the  first,  were  using 
their  instruments,  and  the  noise  they  made  was 
simply  deafening. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


93 


The  king  was  surrounded  by  his  personal  at- 
tendants, who  wore  high  peaked  hats  with  pro- 
jecting wings  ornamented  with  rosettes  and 
streamers  of  ribbon.  There  were  also  standard 
bearers  carrying  the  royal  flag,  an  immense  af- 
fair of  yellow  silk  with  a winged  tiger  in  the 
center.  There  were,  too,  soldiers,  musicians, 
and  various  runners.  In  front  of  the  king’s 
chair  was  borne  a monstrous  red  silk  umbrella. 
Then  came  the  royal  chairs,  each  gorgeously 
canopied  with  red  silk.  There  were  two  chairs, 
one  being  empty,  the  other  containing  the  king. 
It  was  deemed  a stroke  of  safety  to  have  two 
chairs,  as  in  the  case  of  an  assassin  he  would  be 
very  apt  to  make  his  attack  upon  the  first  chair, 
which  was  the  empty  one.  The  chair  in  which 
the  king  sat  was  on  a platform  borne  by  forty 
men.  Over  the  chair  was  a canopy  brilliantly 
ornamented.  This  flashed  in  the  sunlight,  as  did 
the  magnificent  robes  of  the  king.  The  king  had 
a fan  with  which  to  protect  his  face  from  any 
ray  of  the  sun  that  might  find  its  way  beneath 
the  canopy.  Many  hundreds  of  soldiers,  ser- 
vants and  officials  followed  him,  either  walking 
or  riding.  Like  those  that  preceded  him,  the 
costumes  of  the  latter  were  gorgeous  in  the  ex- 
treme. There  were,  too,  tiger  hunters  magnifi- 
cently arrayed,  and  various  bands  of  players  and 


94 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


singers,  each  vying  with  the  other  in  the  display 
that  was  made. 

Tatong  tried  again  and  again  to  get  a position 
from  which  she  conld  catch  even  a glimpse  of  the 
passing  Knrdong.  But  in  vain,  for  each-  time 
that  she  managed  to  secure  a place  of  advantage 
she  was  rudely  jostled  away,  not  only  by  the 
men  and  boys,  but  by  women.  She  had  just 
given  up  in  despair,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
turning  to  make  her  way  from  the  street,  when 
a voice  hailed  her.  At  first  she  could  not  tell  the 
direction  from  whence  it  came.  She  looked  all 
about  her.  Who  could  have  called  her  ? The 
voice  sounded  again.  It  was  plain  now  that  it 
came  from  above.  She  looked  upward,  then  an 
exclamation  escaped  her.  It  was  ISTakta  who 
called  her,  and  such  a sight  met  Tatong’ s eyes 
as  she  raised  them ! For  Wokpo’s  broad  back  a 
great  saddle  something  like  a platform  had  been 
built.  It  was  cushioned  and  enclosed,  and  above 
it  hung  a canopy.  It  was  just  one  of  the  finest 
pavilions  you  ever  saw!  Within  it  sat  Xakta, 
old  Kimri  and  another  woman. 

“Come,  give  me  your  hand,”  said  Hakta  to 
Tatong,  “and  climb  up.” 

Tatong  looked  at  the  old  woman,  and  her 
heart  stood  still.  As  much  as  she  wanted  to 
climb  to  that  glorious  place  the  fear  of  old 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


95 


Ivimri  restrained  her.  Could  she  sit  so  near  to 
that  evil  face  and  piercing  eye  ? What  might 
not  happen  if  she  did  ? But  old  Ivimri  did  not 
seem  to  be  noticing  her.  She  was  busy  with  the 
crowds  passing  below. 

Noting  Tatong’ s hesitancy,  Nakta  seemed  to 
understand  it. 

“Do  not  be  afraid  of  her”  she  said  in  low 
tones.  “Come  ! she  shall  not  hurt  you.” 

Thus  assured,  Tatong  reached  up  her  hands 
and  was  drawn  by  Nakta,  with  the  assistance  of 
the  other  woman,  to  that  splendid  place  on  Mok- 
po’s  back.  Oh  ! what  a fine  sight  she  had  now  of 
every  thing ! In  her  delight  Tatong,  for  the  mo- 
ment, forgot  old  Kimri.  She  was  suddenly  re- 
called to  memory  by  the  sharp  words,  “How  did 
you  come  here  ?” 

Turning  her  head  Tatong  saw  old  Kimri’s 
eyes  fastened  upon  her. 

“Let  her  alone,”  said  Nakta  to  her  mother. 
“She  is  here  because  I have  asked  her.” 

“But  I wish  to  know  whence  she  comes,  and  I 
will  know.  Tell  me,”  she  demanded,  leaning  to- 
ward Tatong  till  her  wicked  old  face  almost 
touched  her,  “from  where  did  you  come  and 
whose  are  you  ?” 

“I  came  from  the  house  of  Mr.  Ni,  and  I am 
the  slave  of  his  wife,  as  I have  before  told  you,” 
replied  Tatong  faintly. 


9G 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“Oli ! yes,  you  did.  Yow  I remember.  A slave  ? 
Well,  that’s  right ! A slave  gets  beaten,  now 
doesn’t  she,  and  starved,  too  ? And  there  is 
never  enough  to  wear,  is  there?”  glancing  at  Ta- 
tong’s  shabby  attire. 

“How  long  have  you  been  there  ?”  she  asked 
abruptly. 

“Since  I was  very  little.  I believe  they  said 
it  was  five  years  that  I was  when  I came.” 

“Then  you  were  always  a slave?” 

“Yes,”  said  Tatong. 

“Where  are  those  who  should  claim  you  by 
blood  ?” 

“I  do  not  know,”  her  eyes  beginning  to  fill 
with  tears. 

“Let  her  alone,”  said  Yakta,  reaching  out  her 
arm  as  though  to  shield  Tatong.  “You  hurt  her 
with  the  questions.” 

“No  mother,  no  father,”  said  the  old  woman 
with  a repulsive  grin.  “Ha  ! ha  ! ha  !” 

Into  Tatong’s  face  there  came  a sudden  light. 
Such  warmth  was  there  in  the  glow  that  it  dis- 
pelled even  the  tears  as  the  sunlight  drinks  up 
the  dew. 

“Yes,”  she  said  in  a voice  that  was  tremulous 
with  feeling,  “I  have  a Father.  The  kind 
stranger  said  I have.” 

“What !”  exclaimed  the  old  woman.  “A 
father  ! Who  told  you  ?” 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


97 


Ere  Tatong  could  reply  there  came  an  inter- 
ruption. Some  one  had  approached  the  pavilion. 
As  the  old  woman’s  words  rang  out  shrilly  a deep 
voice  said, 

“At  last  I have  found  you  !” 

Old  Kimri  turned  her  head,  then  her  voice 
was  shriller  than  ever  as  she  exclaimed, 

“It  is  he ! It  is  he  ! Get  away ! Get  away ! 
Lead  on  the  ox.  We  must  not  stay  here !” 
Tatong,  too,  looked  over  the  side  of  the  pa- 
vilion, then  a cry  escaped  her.  But  it  was  not  a 
cry  of  fear.  It  was  instead  one  of  joyful  sur- 
prise. He  who  had  spoken  and  who  stood  now 
close  beside  Mokpo  was  none  other  than  the  kind 
stranger ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

In  the  Marble  Pagoda. 


f HE  old  woman  seemed  beside  herself  with 


the  desire  to  get  away.  She  called  again 
and  again  to  the  hov,  who,  standing  below,  held 
Mokpo’s  guiding  chain. 

“Idiot ! softhead ! why  do  you  not  start  the 
the  ox  as  you  are  told  ? Quick ! he  must  go  as 
fast  as  he  can.” 

“What  is  the  matter  ?”  asked  Yakta. 

“Mind  your  own  business ! only  start  the 
boy  off  with  the  ox.  You  hear?  You  hear?” 
“You  must  listen  to  me,”  said  the  voice  again. 
“There  are  some  things  I must  know,  I will  ask.” 
“Go  on ! go  on !”  said  old  Ivimri,  but  she  was 
speaking  to  the  hoy  below. 

“I  can’t,”  he  said.  “There’s  no  way  out.  The 
beast  can’t  go  two  steps.” 

“Eind  a way  unless  you  want  to  be  cast  off  to 
starve  the  rest  of  your  lazy  life.” 

“You  cannot  elude  me  now,”  said  the  stranger 
firmly.  “You  must  answer  my  questions.  I will 


He  drew  nearer,  and  standing  upon  a sack  of 


know.” 


98 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


99 


straw  that  had  been  brought  as  food  for  Mokpo, 
raised  his  face  so  that  his  eyes  looked  full  into 
those  of  old  Kimri.  But  ere  he  could  utter  an- 
other word  she  had  stepped  out  of  the  pavilion 
to  the  neck  of  Mokpo,  thence  letting  herself  to 
the  ground.  So  quickly  was  this  done  and  so 
deftly,  despite  her  years,  that  it  was  over  ere 
either  the  stranger  or  anyone  within  the  pavilion 
had  caught  her  intention. 

“She  must  not  escape  me  !”  declared  the 
stranger  in  an  agitated  manner.  “I  must  stop  her.” 

He  stepped  from  the  sack  and  passed  as 
quickly  as  he  could  to  the  other  side  of  Mokpo, 
the  side  on  which  old  Kimri  had  descended. 
But  by  this  time  she  had  disappeared  in  the 
crowd  as  completely  as  though  she  had  been 
whisked  away  by  some  powerful  hand.  He  fol- 
lowed in  the  direction  he  believed  she  had  taken 
as  fast  as  he  could  possibly  make  his  way 
through  the  dense  crowd.  But  it  took  him  min- 
utes to  gain  even  a little  advance. 

“What  can  be  the  matter  with  her  ?”  asked 
Kakta  anxiously  as  she  leaned  over  the  side  of 
the  pavilion,  straining  her  eyes  in  the  direction 
old  Kimri  had  gone.  “Why  did  she  go  away  in 
that  manner  ?”  she  continued.  “I  am  sure  the 
man  didn’t  do  or  say  anything  out  of  the  way. 
He  only  wanted  to  ask  some  questions.” 


100  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

“Will  she  not  get  hurt  in  the  crowd?”  asked 
the  woman. 

“Xo ; not  she.  She  knows  too  well  how  to  take 
care  of  herself.  But  she  will  not  stay  long  in 
the  crowd.  There  are  places  near, -to  one  of 
which  she  will  go.  There  we’ll  find  her  when 
it  is  so  we  can  move  about  in  search  of  her.” 

The  procession  was  coming  now,  and  with  this 
eyes  and  thoughts  were  soon  occupied.  But  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  noise  and  glare  and  splen- 
dors of  the  Ivurdong,  Tatong  kept  saying  over 
and  over  to  herself,  “Oh,  if  the  kind  stranger 
had  hut  stayed ! If  only  he  had  spoken  to  me 
again ! But  he  did  not  seem  even  to  notice  me. 
He  was  too  anxious  to  speak  to  old  Kimri.  Why 
did  she  ran  away  in  that  manner  ? She  seemed 
afraid  of  him.  Poor  old  Kimri!  if  only  she 
knew  wliat  good  things  he  had  to  tell !” 

It  was  but  two  nights  later  when  Mrs.  Xi,  to 
Tatong’ s joy,  sent  her  out  on  the  streets  alone. 
Iler  feet  fairly  flew  along,  her  heart  almost 
bursting  with  the  gladness  that  welled  up  so 
tumultuously.  At  last,  at  last  she  could  go  to 
the  Marble  Pagoda ! She  could  now  hear  the 
sweet  and  beautiful  things  for  which  she  had 
hungered  so  long. 

She  hurried  through  with  her  errand,  then 
turned  her  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  Pagoda. 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  101 

As  has  been  said,  it  lay  in  a portion  of  the  city 
in  which  not  so  many  people  lived  as  in  the  other 
parts.  Directly  about  the  Pagoda  itself  no  one 
dwelt.  It  was  surrounded  by  a cluster  of  unoc- 
cupied huts  that  shut  the  lower  stories  almost 
from  view.  There  were  people  afraid  to  go 
about  the  Marble  Pagoda.  They  said  it  was 
haunted ; that  spirits  and  demons  made  it  their 
abode.  Tatong  had  heard  these  stories,  hut  she 
paid  no  heed  to  them  now.  The  great  desire  of 
her  heart  overshadowed  all  else,  the  desire  to 
know,  to  hear  the  things  that  were  told  within 
the  Marble  Pagoda  of  God,  the  Father. 

Tatong  passed  between  two  of  the  huts  and 
came  out  into  the  space  in  the  center  of  which 
the  Pagoda  towered.  There  was  only  a dim 
light,  that  from  the  stars,  for  the  moon  had  not 
yet  come  up.  By  means  of  it  Tatong  saw  plainly 
the  outlines  of  the  Pagoda.  At  first  she  thought 
no  one  was  there,  for  she  could  catch  no  glimpse 
of  light  within.  Her  heart  sank.  A feeling  of 
despair  took  possession  of  her.  Was  she  after 
all  to  be  so  bitterly  disappointed  ? But  even  as 
she  was  turning  away  she  caught  the  murmur  of 
voices.  She  drew  nearer,  then  for  the  first  .time 
she  saw  a ray  of  light  that  made  its  way  through 
a small  chink.  Those  who  had  the  arranging  of 
the  light  had  doubtless  so  placed  it  that  it  could 
not  be  seen  from  the  street. 


102 


T atony,  the  Little  Slave. 


Timidly  Tatong  approached.  Would  the 
kind  stranger  really  be  within  ? Was  his  one  of 
the  voices  she  heard  ? She  drew  nearer  the 
structure.  Now  she  could  reach  out  her  hand 
and  touch  it.  She  was  preparing  to  do  so,  with 
the  desire  to  find  the  means  of  entrance,  when 
a voice  spoke  to  her  out  of  the  darkness.  It 
came  so  suddenly  that  Tatong  started  with 
fright,  uttered  a cry,  but,  luckily,  not  a loud 
one,  and  was  on  the  point  of  springing  away 
when  the  next  words  arrested  her.  They  were 
gentle  and  kind. 

“Is  not  this  a friend  who  has  come  ?” 

“Yes,”  said  Tatong  faintly. 

“A  friend  who  seeks  the  truth  ?” 

“I  come  to  find  him  who  tells  of  One  who  is 
God,  the  Father.  I call  him  the  kind  stranger, 
for  I do  not  know  his  name.  He  has  talked  to 
me,  and  he  has  told  me  to  come  here,  where  I 
would  hear  many  more  things  that  are  good  and 
beautiful.” 

“It  is  all  right.  You  may  enter.  He  whom 
you  seek,  Mr.  Ho,  is  within,  and  with  him  also  is 
the  white  brother,  he  with  the  gentle  face  and 
the  heart  that  can  feel  so  keenly  the  Avoes  of  an- 
other. And  the  youthful  one  is  there,  too,  with 
the  tongue  that  makes  music.  Enter  and  be 
made  glad.” 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  103 

So  speaking  the  owner  of  the  voice  touched 
what  seemed  to  be  a small  spring.  There  was  a 
sharp  click,  then  the  slighter  noise  of  a door 
moving  on  its  hinges,  and  an  opening  stood  re- 
vealed. It  was  not  more  than  two  feet  broad  by 
about  three  in  length.  Tatong  saw  now  for  the 
first  time  that  he  who  had  been  speaking  to  her 
was  an  old  man.  But  she  felt  no  fear  of  him, 
as  would  have  been  usual  in  another  place  and 
under  other  circumstances,  he  was  so  kind  and 
his  voice  so  gentle. 

“He  is  one  of  those  whom  the  kind  stranger 
has  made  soft  of  heart  and  mild  of  head,”  said 
Tatong  to  herself,  “through  the  beautiful  things 
he  has  told  him.” 

They  had  to  stoop  to  enter.  The  first  cham- 
ber was  unoccupied,  though  two  candles  in  their 
gauze  frames  were  burning  there.  This  was 
only  to  light  the  entrance  and  to  point  the  way 
to  the  chamber  beyond,  within  which  Tatong 
now  plainly  heard  the  noise  of  mingled  voices. 

The  Pagoda  was  about  twenty-five  feet  in 
diameter.  In  each  story  there  was  a central 
chamber,  the  outer  space  serving  as  a kind  of 
gallery  running  all  around  it.  It  was  a portion 
of  this  gallery  that  had  seemed  as  a chamber 
to  Tatong  when  first  entering  it. 

The  old  man  approached  the  inner  chamber 


104 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


and  rapped.  At  once  a door  was  opened  from 
within,  a door  of  sufficient  length  to  be  entered 
without  stooping.  As  it  rolled  back  Tatong’ s 
heart  gave  a great  bound  at  what  was  revealed. 
For  there  within  the  apartment,  which  was 
about  twelve  feet  across  by  eight  or  nine  in 
height,  were  gathered  at  least  a dozen  women, 
one  or  two  men,  and  about  a half  dozen  children, 
some  about  Tatong’ s size,  some  even  smaller. 
The  women  with  but  three  exceptions  had  their 
faces  uncovered,  and  these  had  partly  relaxed 
their  hold  upon  the  ugly  green  cloaks.  But  it 
was  not  the  sight  of  these  women  or  of  the  men 
and  children  that  caused  Tatong’s  heart  to 
bound,  but  that  of  the  kind  stranger,  who,  seated 
in  their  midst,  was  repeating  to  them  what  was 
being  read  from  a book  by  one  beside  him.  This 
other  one  was  he  with  the  white  face,  who,  from 
under  the  great  mourning  hat,  had  given  her  the 
glimpse  of  himself  as  he  had  placed  in  her  hand 
the  ardently  coveted  stick  of  candy.  Was  it  not 
strange  that  he,  too,  should  he  here  ? 

Tatong  dropped  upon  her  heels  in  the  space 
the  old  man  pointed  out.  Then  she  raised  her 
head,  and  what  jov  came  to  her  at  that  moment ! 
For  the  kind  stranger  had  looked  up.  ITe  was 
glancing  directly  at  her.  Ilis  eyes  lighted  up; 
a smile  gathered  upon  his  lips.  lie  had  not  only 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


105 


seen,  but  he  had  recognized  her  ! What  greater 
joy  could  she  desire  ? He  remembered  her,  Ta- 
tong, the  poor,  wretched,  little  slave,  about 
whom  few  ever  thought,  and  for  whom  certainly 
no  one  cared. 

But  now  he  was  looking  away,  and  what  was 
this  he  was  saying  ? It  was  something  the  white 
brother,  as  the  old  man  had  called  him,  had  just 
read  from  the  book. 

“iNot  every  one  that  saith  unto  me,  Lord, 
Lord,  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
but  he  that  doetli  the  will  of  my  Father  which 
is  in  heaven.” 

Then  one  by  one  as  they  were  told  to  her  Ta- 
tong’s  thirsty  heart  drank  in  the  many  things, 
the  beautiful,  precious  things  of  him  who  is 
God,  the  Father,  and  of  Jesus,  his  Son,  who  had 
come  to  earth  to  show  us  just  how  sweet  and  pure 
a life  could  be  that  doetli  the  will  of  the  Father. 

“This  Father  is  God,”  continued  Mr.  Ko, 
speaking  now  as  he  had  the  words  from  his 
white  brother,  who  had  closed  the  book.  “His 
home  is  in  the  place  called  heaven ; far  above  the 
deep  blue  sky,  even  beyond  the  twinkling  stars 
and  the  silver  orb  of  the  moon.  He  is  great  and 
powerful  as  well  as  good.  He  made  all  things, 
even  the  moon  and  the  stars  themselves,  and  the 
sun,  the  great  light  of  the  day.  lie  made  the 


106  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

flowers,  the  trees,  the  animals,  the  people  in  the 
world,  nay,  he  made  the  world  itself,  you,  me, 
every  one.  As  he  made  all  in  the  spirit  of  love, 
so  does  he  want  us  to  bear  that  spirit  in  our 
hearts,  to  live  lives  of  gentleness  and  peace,  to 
be  merciful,  to  deal  justly  with  all;  that  is,  to 
think  of  another  as  of  ourselves,  and  to  walk  so 
we  shall  not  be  ashamed  for  his  eye  to  rest  upon 
us  at  any  time.  This  is  what  is  meant  by  doing 
the  will  of  the  F ather ; and  he  who  so  does  will  be 
loved  of  the  Father,  and  the  Father  will  send 
blessings  upon  him.  Xot  only  this,  but  he  will 
be  taken  to  live  in  that  beautiful  abode  called 
heaven,  where  God,  the  Father,  dwells,  and 
where  there  is  no  night,  hut  always  the  light  of  a 
day  more  glorious  even  than  that  the  sun  sends 
forth.” 

As  the  words  were  finished  Tatong  bowed  her 
head  and  sat  silent,  almost  motionless,  her  heart 
sore  within  her.  For  that  which  she  had  just 
heard,  which  visibly  gave  so  much  joy  to  those 
who  sat  about  her,  crushed  from  her  own  heart 
all  happiness,  all  hope.  This  Great  One,  God, 
could  never  be  her  Father,  0 no!  Again  the 
recognition  of  this  had  come,  and  with  double 
force.  He  was  too  great,  too  powerful.  How 
could  it  he  ? Had  not  the  kind  stranger  said  he 
was  Lord  of  all,  of  heaven  and  of  earth  ? now 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  107 

then  could  he  give  even  a thought  to  a miserable 
little  slave  like  herself  ? Oh,  it  could  not  he  ! 

But  now  again  her  attention  was  attracted. 
Some  one  had  asked  a question.  Earlier  in  the 
evening  the  white  brother  had  read  of  a wonder- 
ful thing  that  had  been  done  by  Jesus,  the  Son 
of  the  Father.  He  had  raised  a woman  from  the 
dead,  the  daughter  of  a great  ruler.  Hot  only 
had  she  been  brought  to  life  again,  but  she  re- 
mained so ; that  is,  she  lived  for  many  years  af- 
terwards. 

“Was  not  this  a strange  thing  for  him  to  do,” 
asked  one  of  the  men,  “to  raise  from  the  dead  a 
woman  ? Why  did  he  not  raise  a man  ? For  do 
you  not  know  what  is  said,  ‘A  woman  is  not 
worth  a cherry  stone,  but  a man  many  cherry 
trees  V ” 

“Jesus,  the  Heavenly  One,”  spoke  Mr.  Ko 
gently,  “makes  no  difference  between  man  or 
woman.  Jle  gives  to  each  alike  the  privilege  of 
entering  the  mansions  of  heaven.  He  says  to  all, 
‘Come,’  and  those  who  heed  the  call  and  obey  it, 
whether  they  are  men  or  women,  will  receive  the 
reward  he  has  promised,  the  entrance  into  the 
Kingdom  and  a share  in  the  glories  of  the 
King. 

“But  Jesus  did  also  raise  man  from  the  dead,” 
continued  Mr.  Ko.  He  reached  for  the  book, 


108 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


and  himself  read  the  tender,  touching  story  of 
the  calling  from  the  dead  of  the  widow’s  son. 

Again  the  men  expressed  their  surprise.  Jesus 
had  done  this  for  a woman,  he  had  brought  the 
young  man  hack  to  life  because  of  his  sorrow  for 
the  mother  who  wept. 

“As  his  heart  always  showed  sorrow,  tender- 
ness for  the  weak,  the  helpless,  the  unfortunate 
while  on  earth,  so  he  loves  and  cares  for  them 
now,”  spoke  Mr.  Ivo,  his  eyes  misty  with  feeling. 

Tatong  heard  the  words  and  her  heart  leaped. 
It  came  up  in  her  throat  and  stayed  there,  throb- 
bing, throbbing,  throbbing.  Jesus,  the  Son  of 
the  Father,  cared  for  the  weak,  the  helpless,  the 
unfortunate.  Sorrow  touched  his  heart.  He 
had  stopped  to  look  upon  the  woman  in  pity. 
He  had  said,  “Weep  not.”  Then  he  stretched 
forth  his  hand,  and  lo,  the  grand,  the  beautiful 
thing  was  done  ! the  son  stood  up,  and  the  mother 
wept  no  more.  Oh  ! how  good,  how  gracious,  how 
loving  was  this  Jesus  ! Way  be  if  he  knew  of  her, 
of  her,  poor,  little,  wretched  slave  Tatong,  who 
longed  with  all  her  heart  to  find  a father,  a 
father  who  cared,  who  would  be  sorry  for  her, 
who  would  pity  her  misery,  and  never  let  her  be 
starved  nor  beaten  again — yes,  maybe  if  he,  this 
Jesus  with  the  kind  and  tender  heart,  knew  of 
all  these  things,  he  would  sorrow  with  her,  too, 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


109 


he  would  tell  God,  the  F ather,  of  her.  Then  his 
heart,  too,  might  be  turned  to  her,  the  heart  of 
God,  the  Father,  and  he  would  take  some  of  the 
hardness  and  sorrow  out  of  her  life,  even  if  he 
did  not  think  her  fit  to  go  to  live  with  him  in 
his  home  above  the  sky. 

But  once  more  poor  Tatong’s  heart  was  to 
have  hope  crushed  from  it.  For  Mr.  Ko  was 
reading  again.  It  was  about  the  things  that  had 
been  done  by  this  Jesus,  whom  he  now  called  the 
Saviour  of  men.  Jesus  had  come  to  earth  to 
show'  men  the  way  to  the  Father.  Then  the 
Father  was  very  angry  with  them,  for  they  had 
not  done  as  he  desired  them  to  do.  lie  had  said 
they  must  all  die  for  their  sin  and  disobedience. 
But  now  such  a great  thing  as  Jesus  did ! This 
was  why  he  had  been  called  the  Saviour.  He  had 
himself  died  to  save  man  from  the  wrath  of  the 
Father.  He  had  suffered  a terrible  death  nailed 
by  his  hands  and  feet  to  beams  of  wood  called 
a cross.  They  had  even  pierced  his  side  with  a 
sharp  and  cruel  spear  to  make  sure  that  he  was 
dead. 

Tatong  could  bear  to  hear  no  more.  She 
dropped  her  head  to  her  hands  and  began  to 
weep  in  all  the  bitterness  of  sorrow  and  of  de- 
spair. If  Jesus,  the  tender,  the  loving  one  were 
dead,  how  could  he  help  her  as  she  desired  ? He 


110 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


could  not,  that  was  certain.  She  must  give  up 
all  hope  of  that  now.  And  Oh ! such  a terrible, 
such  a cruel  death  as  he  had  died ! Even  the  cut 
of  the  canes  through  her  flesh  was  as  nothing  to 
those  nails  driven  through  his  feet  and  his 
hands.  And  to  hang  as  he  had  done  upon  those 
terrible  beams  of  wood,  with  the  cruel  spear 
wound  in  his  side.  Oh,  the  agony  of  it ! How 
had  he  ever  endured  ? And  to  think  that  the 
ones  who  had  put  him  to  death  were  some  of  the 
very  ones  for  whom  he  had  died ! The  tears 
trickled  through  Tatong’ s fingers  as  she  thus 
wept  and  thought  in  bitterness  and  despair  of 
heart. 

But  what  was  this  Mr.  Ko  was  now  saying? 
Ere  he  had  uttered  many  words  of  it  Tatong 
had  raised  her  head  and  was  listening  eagerly. 

“They  took  the  body  of  Jesus  down  from  the 
cross.  It  was  placed  in  a tomb  cut  in  the  rock. 
A great  stone  was  rolled  against  it,  and  those 
who  had  crucified  him  came  and  sealed  it  up  and 
even  set  men  to  watch  it,  fearing  lest  those  who 
loved  him  should  come  and  steal  the  body  away. 
For  Jesus  had  said  that  on  the  third  day  he 
would  rise  again  from  the  dead.  They  did  not 
believe  him.  They  thought  his  disciples,  those 
who  followed  him,  would  steal  the  body,  and  in 
this  way  make  the  people  believe  that  Jesus  had 


Taiong,  the  Little  Slave.  Ill 

himself  risen  from  the  dead.  Wonderful  to  re- 
late, Jesus  did  arise  from  the  dead  and  of  his 
own  power!  For  at  dawn  of  the  third  day, 
when  those  who  loved  him  came  to  look  upon 
the  spot  where  he  lay  and  to  bring  sweet  spices 
to  his  tomb,  they  found  the  stone  rolled  away 
and  a shining  angel  of  the  Lord  within,  who 
spoke  to  them,  telling  them  that  Jesus  was  no 
longer  among  the  dead,  that  he  had  arisen  and 
gone  away,  and  that  shortly  they  should  see  him. 
And  they  did  see  him  and  he  spoke  to  them  and 
comforted  them,  telling  them  again  of  the  joys 
of  heaven  that  he  was  going  to  prepare  for  them. 
Afterwards,  in  the  midst  of  the  clouds,  with 
many  holy  ones  about  him,  he  was  caught  up  and 
carried  to  the  Father.  There  he  sitteth  to-day 
on  the  right  hand  of  him  who  is  God,  the  F ather, 
and  he  ever  maketh  plea  for  us  in  our  weakness 
and  our  sin.” 

Once  more  Tatong’s  heart  was  wildly  athroh. 
Jesus  was  not  then  dead  ! He  who  had  the  power 
to  raise  others  had  raised  himself.  Why,  she 
might  have  known  he  could  if  she  had  only  thought 
about  it  as  she  ought!  Yes,  Jesus  was  alive! 
He  had  ascended  to  heaven,  the  home  of  the 
Father.  And  what  was  that  Mr.  Ko  had  said 
about  his  pleading  with  the  Father  for  us  ? Oh, 
could  it  he  true  that  he  did  ? If  so,  then  here 


112 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


was  the  very  way,  the  way  for  which  her  heart 
had  so  long  cried  ont  in  its  sore  distress.  Oh, 
she  must  find  ont  more  about  Jesus,  the  Saviour  ! 
How  good,  how  beautiful  he  was ! She  must 
ask  how  she  could  send  him  a message,  how  she 
could  let  him  know  the  sorrow  of  her  heart,  the 
woe  of  her  lot  as  a poor,  despised  slave,  how  she 
longed  for  him  to  plead  for  her  with  God,  the 
F ather. 

Something  strange  was  happening  now  that 
is  very  strange  to  Tatong.  In  the  wonder  that 
possessed  her  as  she  looked  upon  it  and  listened 
to  it  she  forgot  for  the  time  the  thoughts  surg- 
ing so  tumultuously  through  her  heart. 

Mr.  Ivo  had  stopped  talking,  so,  too,  had  the 
white  brother.  They  had  each  taken  up  a book 
again,  hut  not  the  ones  they  had  had  at  first. 
These  hooks  were  smaller,  and  they  were  flat- 
ter, too. 

Mr.  Ko  turned  and  spoke  to  some  one  on  the 
other  side  of  him,  some  one  who  until  now  had 
been  so  in  the  shadow,  so  concealed  behind  the 
others,  that  Tatong  had  not  seen  him.  But  now 
as,  in  response  to  Mr.  Ivo’s  words,  he  came  fully 
into  view  an  exclamation  escaped  Tatong.  It 
was  the  hoy  with  whom  she  had  met  on  the 
market  day,  the  one  who  had  been  so  kind,  who 
had  so  bravely  rescued  her  scattered  coins. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


113 


Tatong’ s heart  began  to  beat  louder  and  still 
louder.  Would  be  see  her,  and,  if  he  did,  would 
he  recognize  her  ? How  often  she  had  wished 
that  she  might  meet  him  again,  so  that  she  might 
say  to  him  the  words  she  ought  to  have  said  to 
him  at  first ! Surely  now  she  could  say  them 
without  her  tongue  being  glued  to  the  roof  of 
her  mouth.  If  she  could  not,  then  she  would 
beg  the  kind  stranger  to  speak  to  him  for  her. 
On  this  she  was  resolved.  He  had  been  so  good, 
and  she  had  not  shown  him  how  she  thanked 
him. 

But  what  was  this  they  were  going  to  do  ? 
The  youth  drew  nearer.  He  placed  himself 
between  Mr.  Ko  and  the  white  brother.  Then 
each  opened  a book,  and  such  sweet,  such  beau- 
tiful sounds  as  came  forth,  but  not  loud  sounds. 
Instead  they  were  soft  and  low,  and  Tatong 
knew  that  they  were  made  thus  that  they  might 
not  reach  the  ears  of  those  who  passed  along  the 
streets.  It  was  something  that  was  done  in 
honor  of  him  of  whom  they  had  just  read.  Ta- 
tong caught  this  much  from  the  whispered  words 
of  two  women  who  sat  next  to  her. 

How  eager,  how  attentive  was  each  one  in  the 
little  circle  as  the  sweet  sounds  were  given  forth  ! 
The  three  women  who  had  covered  their  faces 
forgot  to  clutch  the  ugly  green  cloaks  as  tightly 


114 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


as  they  usually  held  them.  Their  fingers  re- 
laxed, the  folds  fell  away,  and  with  faces  that 
showed  all  the  deep  emotion  that  swayed  them 
they  leaned  forward  drinking  in  every  word. 

Tatong  had  never  heard  anything  so  sweet, 
so  beautiful  as  this  before.  Her  very  heart 
seemed  to  answer  it,  sound  for  sound,  and  when 
it  stopped  she  knew  not  whether  to  weep  for  the 
very  joy  it  had  sent  throbbing  through  her,  or  to 
cry  out  and  laugh  in  her  happiness. 

The  white  brother  and  the  youth  now  ceased 
singing,  but  Mr.  Ko,  having  opened  the  book  at 
another  place,  was  again  speaking  to  them 
through  the  sweet  sounds.  To  Tatong’s  joj 
this  was  in  the  language  she  understood.  It 
was  about  this  same  great  One  of  whom  they 
had  heard,  God,  the  Father.  He  was  rich  in 
houses  and  lands,  in  silver  and  gold,  yet  all  who 
obeyed  him  was,  with  Jesus,  the  Saviour,  the 
child  of  this  King.  How  happy  Mr.  Ko  was ! 
how  his  face  shone  as  he  declared  again  and 
again  that  he,  too,  was  the  child  of  the  King ! 
The  words  stirred  Tatong  to  the  very  core  of  her 
heart.  Oh  ! if  she  could  only  ltnow  that  she,  too, 
was  his  child,  that  he  was  her  Father.  She  must 
know,  she  must  find  this  out.  She  could  go  no 
longer  with  all  this  doubt,  this  uncertainty.  The 
kind  stranger  had  told  her  that  God,  the  Father, 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  115 

was  her  Father,  too,  but  again  and  again  she  had 
felt  that  it  must  be  a mistake,  since  God  was  so 
mighty  a King,  so  rich  and  so  powerful.  How 
could  it  he  ? 

Again  the  strange  thing  that  was  done  struck 
Tatong  with  wonder  and  awe.  Each  head  was 
bent  reverently,  the  hands  of  several  clasped  as 
in  supplication,  as,  in  a deep,  low  voice 
trembling  now  and  then  with  its  weight  of  feel- 
ing, the  white  brother  talked — to  them  Tatong 
thought  at  first — but  soon  she  understood  it  was 
to  some  one  they  could  not  see.  At  last,  with  a 
thrill  that  caused  her  heart  to  beat  almost  wildly, 
she  realized  that  it  was  to  God,  the  Father,  this 
great  King  of  heaven  and  of  earth.  Was  there 
then  really  a way  to  talk  to  him  ? And  could  he 
hear  ? Oh,  joy  ! joy ! if  this  were  so,  for  now  at 
last  she  might  reach  him  ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


“They  Cast  Me  Out  to  Die.” 


HERE  was  now  a murmur  of  voices  all 


about  Tatong,  for  tbe  services  had  closed, 
aud  the  people  had  lingered  to  talk  with  each 
other  a while  ere  going  home.  It  took  hut  a few 
minutes  for  her  to  learn  about  the  kind  stranger, 
or  Mr.  Ivo,  as  she  would  now  call  him ; for  on 
all  sides  she  heard  the  busy,  grateful  tongues 
speaking  his  name  and  that,  too,  of  the  white 
brother,  whom  they  sometimes  mentioned  as  Mr. 
Ross.  He,  the  white  brother,  had  been  three 
years  in  Seoiil,  Mr.  Ivo  all  his  life.  It  was  the 
coming  of  the  white  brother  and  the  learning 
of  the  many  beautiful  things  he  had  to  tell  that 
had  made  Mr.  Ivo  so  different  from  others  of  his 
own  people.  But  Mr.  Ivo  had  not  heard  the 
truths  for  the  first  time  on  the  coming  of  the 
white  brother.  There  had  been  one  other  be- 
fore Mr.  Ross,  who  had  told  him  the  same  things, 
but  though  he  had  heard  the  truths  and  they  had 
seemed  very  wonderful  to  him,  yet  he  had  not 
fully  believed  them  until  the  coming  of  the 
white  brother.  Then  they  had  fastened  thern- 


116 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  117 

selves  upon  his  heart,  his  eyes  had  been  opened, 
and  since  then  his  greatest  joy  had  been  in  go- 
ing about  telling  the  wonderful  things  to  who- 
soever would  listen.  He  was  not  a poor  man, 
though  he  kept  himself  so  by  giving  away  all 
his  income  except  enough  to  meet  the  actual 
wants  of  himself  and  the  youth,  Kit-ze,  whom, 
Tatong  learned,  with  great  surprise,  was  the  son 
of  the  kind  stranger.  Oh,  then  no  wonder  the 
son  had  been  so  gentle  and  so  kind  with  such 
a father  to  lead  him ! 

Tatong  learned,  too,  that  there  was  a sorrow, 
a deep  sorrow  in  the  life  of  Hr.  Ko,  and  had 
been  for  a long  while.  Ho  one  seemed  to  know 
just  what  it  was,  as  he  had  never  spoken  about  it 
himself,  but  the  impression  seemed  to  he  that  it 
was  about  some  one  who  was  dead  or  whom  he 
had  lost,  and  for  whom  he  was  hunting.  There 
were  one  or  two  who  said  that  this  sorrow  had 
been  much  greater  since  he  had  heard  and  be- 
lieved the  teachings  of  the  white  brother,  thess 
teachings  which  proclaimed  love,  justice  and 
mercy. 

Tatong  heard  now  for  the  first  time  why  it 
was  the  white  brother  went  around  under  the 
mourning  hat.  There  were  those  who  had 
threatened  his  life  because  of  the  reports  that 
had  gone  abroad  with  reference  to  the  babies 


118 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


that  had  been  picked  up  and  carried  to  the  mis- 
sion house,  which  Tatong  learned  was  the  name 
of  the  white  brother’s  home,  and  was  also  the 
place  where  Mr.  Ko  and  Kit-ze  lived.  He  had 
picked  up  the  poor  little  girl  babies  that  had  been 
left  by  their  parents  to  die,  and  had  carried  them 
to  this  sweet  home,  where  they  could  have  kind- 
ness and  care.  But  there  were  those  who  hated 
his  teachings,  and  so  they  had  done  great  mis- 
chief by  publishing  it  abroad  that  the  “foreign 
devils,”  as  they  called  Mr.  Ross  and  his  workers, 
had  taken  the  babies  to  kill  them  and  make  medi- 
cine out  of  them  to  cure  diseases  that  they  pro- 
fessed to  treat.  Since  then  there  had  been  much 
bitterness  displayed  against  the  missionary 
when  he  showed  himself  in  the  streets,  and  also 
against  Mr.  Ko,  who  was  known  to  assist  him. 
More  than  once  they  had  been  attacked  by  a 
small  mob,  and  at  one  time  the  missionary  had 
received  a bad  wound.  It  had  left  a long  scar 
across  his  forehead. 

The  meetings  were  held  in  the  Marble  Pa- 
goda, because  there  were  some  who  could  not  go 
to  the  mission  house.  It  was  too  far  away. 
They  could  not  remain  from  home  long  enough. 
Others  again  declared  that  they  were  afraid  to 
go  after  all  the  threats  that  had  been  made.  If 
they  were  seen  entering  the  house  they  would 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  119 

never  be  allowed  to  go  again.  Further  than  this, 
they  might  be  violently  attacked,  even  killed. 
So  the  Marble  Pagoda  had  been  selected  as  the 
place  of  meeting,  and  because  of  the  excited 
state  of  feeling  among  many  who  had  declared 
their  enmity,  they,  the  worshippers,  were  as  se- 
cret as  possible. 

Tatong  had  stood  for  some  minutes  listening 
to  the  murmur  of  voices  and  learning  all  these 
things.  She  knew  no  one  among  the  small  crowd 
of  men  and  women,  nor  did  any  of  them  at  first 
seem  to  notice  her.  They  were  too  busy  for  a 
while  greeting  each  other  and  comparing  expe- 
riences since  the  last  meeting.  A lonely,  hun- 
gry feeling  crept  into  Tatong’s  heart  and  a mist 
of  tears  veiled  her  eyes.  Could  it  be  that  no  one 
would  notice  her?  that  no  one  would  speak  to 
her  ? They  were  so  friendly  with  each  other,  so 
glad  to  meet  again,  altogether  different  from 
what  the  little  slave  had  ever  seen  people  before, 
that  it  filled  her  with  astonishment.  But  more 
astonished  was  she  to  see  the  kind  and  friendly 
way  in  which  the  men  spoke  to  the  women. 
Truly  the  “Jesus  Doctrine,”  as  they  called  it, 
was  a wonderful,  wonderful  thing  to  change  peo- 
ple so ! 

The  tears  welled  up  into  Tatong’s  eyes  and  be- 
gan to  fall  one  by  one  upon  her  cheeks.  For  a 


120 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


time  it  seemed  as  though,  not  even  the  kind 
stranger  would  greet  her.  He  was  kept  very 
busy  returning  greetings,  for  all  wanted  to  speak 
to  him.  They  crowded  around,  some  of  them 
clasping  his  hand.  This  was  a very  strange  cus- 
tom to  Tatong,  and  as  she  saw  it  she  wondered 
more  and  more. 

But  at  last  he  had  turned  and  advanced  until 
he  stood  directly  in  front  of  Tatong.  What  a 
sweet  expression  there  was  on  his  face ! how 
warm  the  light  in  his  eyes ! Her  heart  swelled 
and  swelled  as  she  saw  it.  It  seemed  that  it 
would  surely  hurst  with  its  weight  of  joy.  Xever 
in  all  her  life  had  any  one  looked  at  her  in  this 
way.  There  had  been  blows  and  harsh  words 
and  angry  looks,  hut  never  such  warmth,  such 
glow  of  kindness  as  this.  It  was  surely  that  she 
was  dreaming,  that  she  would  awaken  shortly 
and  find  it  all  a cruel  mistake.  But  no,  he  was 
really  there,  he  was  standing  before  here,  he  was 
looking  down  upon  her  face  with  eyes  that 
showed  pity,  sympathy,  tenderness.  His  voice, 
too,  was  speaking  to  her,  and  Oh ! what  gentle- 
ness, what  kindness  there  was  in  it ! 

“At  last  you  have  come,  little  friend,”  he  said. 

“Yes,  kind  sir,”  replied  Tatong,  her  voice  all 
in  a tremble  with  emotion. 

“I  was  afraid  it  would  he  so  you  could  not 


121 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

come.  I have  looked  for  you  many  times  in  the 
little  crowd.” 

“My  mistress  did  not  send  me  on  the  street  so 
that  I could  come  until  to-night,  though  I 
thought  more  than  once  she  would  do  it,  and  my 
heart  was  so  full  of  joy.  But  each  time  before 
this  she  came  with  me.” 

“And  is  your  mistress  still  unkind  ?”  he  asked 
gently. 

“Oh,  sir!”  this  was  all  that  Tatong  could  lit- 
ter at  the  moment,  hut  it  was  enough.  He  fully 
understood  it.  Her  emotion  spoke  more  than 
words  could. 

“Poor  child  ! But  she  surely  did  not  beat  you 
the  time  you  were  at  the  market,”  he  continued. 
“I  have  been  anxious  about  that,  anxious  to  know. 
Tell  me  that  the  cash  I was  able  to  give  you  did 
what  I hoped  they  could.” 

“O  sir,  it  seemed  that,  despite  your  kindness, 
all  went  bad  for  me.  There  was  a funeral.  I 
had  to  wait  until  it  crossed  the  street.  Then 
other  things  delayed  me.  My  mistress  would  not 
believe  me.  She  was  angry,  and  so  she  beat  me 
with  the  bamboos;  she  beat  me  upon  the  places 
that  were  still  sore  from  the  last  time.  0 sir,  it 
did  hurt  so !” 

Mr.  Ko  shuddered.  What  a story  this  was  for 
his  tender  heart ! 


122  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

“Poor  little  one ! poor  little  one !”  he  ex- 
claimed. “Can  it  be  that  yon  must  really  en- 
dure this  ? Is  there  no  one  who  could  prevent 

it  r 

“O  sir,  I think  not.  There  is  no  one  who 
cares  enough  to  do  that.” 

“Child,  do  not  talk  so ! There  must  he  some 
one,  some  one  on  whom  you  have  a claim,  some 
one  who  has  an  interest  in  you.” 

“Sir,  in  all  the  world  there  is  no  one  who  has 
an  interest,  except,”  correcting  herself,  “it  is 
Chansa  and  Kom ; but  Chansa  herself  is  badly 
treated  and  Kom  is  so  little.” 

“But  where  are  those  from  whom  you  were 
taken  by  Mr.  Hi  ?” 

“O  sir,  they  did  not  care.  The  man  found  me 
outside  the  wall  in  the  ditch,  where  I had  been 
thrown  to  die.  He  sold  me  to  Mr.  Ki  for  money ; 
that  was  all  he  wanted.” 

“But  will  not  Mr.  Ki  sell  you  again?”  asked 
Mr.  Ivo  suddenly. 

“I  do  not  know.  He  is  not  here  now.  He  is 
away  in  the  war.” 

“When  is  he  coming  home  ? I know  that 
sometimes  it  is  not  hard  for  certain  of  the  sol- 
diers to  get  leave  of  absence,  and  he  may  be  one 
of  them.  Is  he  coming  soon  ?” 

“I  think  I heard  them  say  that  it  might  be 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  123 

shortly.  I know  Mrs.  Mi  had  a message  soon 
after  the  battle,  and  Mr.  Mi  said  he  had  had 
enough  of  war.” 

“Then  he  may  come  very  soon.  Let  us  hope 
that  he  will.  In  the  meantime,  my  child,  endure 
as  best  you  can.  It  is  hard,  I know,  but  surely 
a way  out  of  all  this  trial  and  suffering  may  yet 
be  found.  Be  patient  and  brave  of  heart.” 

“O  sir,  I do  try.  I have  tried  more  than  ever 
since  I have  seen  you,  and  you  have  been  so 
kind,  since  I have  known  that  one  could  care.” 
She  raised  her  large  dark  eyes  to  him  patheti- 
cally. The  look  he  saw  within  them  was  like  a 
stab  to  his  heart.  Oh,  if  he  only  had  it  in  his 
power  to  end  right  now  the  misery  he  knew  she 
endured ! If  he  could  only  send  the  sunshine 
through  her  wretched  lot ! How  much  a little 
kindness,  a few  gently-spoken  words  had  seemed 
to  her ! She  treasured  them  as  she  would  not 
have  done  a gleaming  store  of  silver  poured  out 
at  her  feet. 

“Have  you  never  seen  or  heard  anything  of 
those  to  whom  you  belong  ?”  asked  Mr.  Ko 
somewhat  suddenly  of  Tatong. 

“I  have  never  seen  or  heard  anything:  I do 
not  know  who  or  where  they  are.  O sir,  why 
should  I want  to  know  ?” 

“Why,  my  child,  it  would  seem  your  very 


124 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


loneliness  and  misery  would  give  yon  the  desire 
to  know  something  of  those  to  whom  you  are 
hound  by  the  ties  of  blood.  They  would  be 
something  akin  to  you,  something  on  which  you 
had  a claim.” 

‘‘Sir,  I would  not  seek  to  make  the  claim !” 
declared  Tatong,  her  eyes  flashing.  “I  would 
not  care  to  know  them.  I would  rather  I never 
looked  upon  them.  For,  O sir,  did  they  not  cast 
me  aAvay  to  die  ? Did  they  not  throw  me  where 
the  beasts  coiild  devour  me  ?” 

“But  it  may  not  have  been  your  own  who  did 
this,”  said  Mr.  Ivo  gently.  “Many  dreadful 
things  have  happened  to  girl  babies  that  have 
not  come  through  their  own  families.  Some- 
times they  have  been  stolen  through  jealousy 
among  the  women,  or  through  the  desire  to  in- 
flict torture  upon  another  woman’s  heart.  I 
knew  of  a case  like  that,”  he  added,  his  voice  so 
low  now  Tatong  could  just  hear  the  words,  while 
his  face  had  such  a sad  expression,  his  eyes  a 
far-away  look. 

“I  do  not  think  it  was  my  mother  who  threw 
me  away,”  said  Tatong  quickly.  “Chansa  says 
that  the  mothers  do  not  often  themselves  throw 
their  babies  away,  and  then  nearly  every  time  it 
is  because  they  are  made  to  do  it.  It  is  the 
fathers  and  brothers,  and  maybe  the  old  grand- 


125 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

mothers.  O sir,  I think  it  must  have  been  one 
of  those  who  threw  me  away.  But,  O sir,”  stop- 
ping suddenly  and  looking  at  him  with  eyes  wide 
open  in  their  questioning,  “if  my  father  is  what 
you  say  he  is,  how  could  he  have  done  it  ?'  ’ 
“Your  father,  my  child  ? I do  not  understand 
you.” 

“Oh  ! do  you  not  remember  how  you  have  said 
that  he  is  good  and  great,  and  has  much  power 
to  do  many  things  ?” 

“How  could  I have  said  that,  Tatong,  when  I 
do  not  know  your  father,  have  not  the  remotest 
idea,  in  fact,  as  to  who  he  is  ?” 

lie  looked  at  her  deeply  perplexed.  What 
could,  she  mean  ? 

“O  sir,  have  you  not  told  me  of  One  who 
cared,  of  One  who  is  God,  my  Father?” 

The  light  of  a sudden  knowledge  glowed  in 
His  face,  his  eyes  grew  tenderer  still  with  feel- 
ing. 

“Yes,  Tatong,  I have.  There  is  One  who  cares 
for  you,  One  who  is  God,  your  Father.  But  he 
is  your  Heavenly  Father,  while  the  other  of 
whom  we  have  been  speaking  is  your  earthly 
father.” 

“O  sir,  have  I two  fathers  ?” 

“That  depends,  my  Tatong,  on  whether  your 
earthly  father  is  living.  But  of  a certainty  you 


126  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

have  one  Father,  he  who  is  in  heaven.  If  you 
love  and  serve  him  as  he  desires  you  to  do,  he 
will  never  desert  nor  forsake  you.  Ilis  heart  is 
tender  and  full  of  compassion.  lie  loves  his 
children  as  no  earthly  father  loves.” 

“O  sir,  O sir,  is  it  really  true  that  he  is  my 
Father?  He  is  so  great,  so  full  of  power,  how 
could  it  he  that  he  is  the  father  of  a poor  little 
slave  like  Tatong  ?” 

“My  child,  not  only  God  is  great,  hut  his 
heart  is  great.  He  cares  for  and  loves  the  poor 
and  the  lonely  as  well  as  the  rich  and  mighty. 
It  makes  no  difference  to  him  that  Tatong  is  a 
poor  little  slave;  he  loves  and  cares  for  Tatong.” 

“O  sir,  you  make  my  heart  almost  cry  out  in 
happiness.  It  is  so  full  of  joy  it  cannot  keep 
still.  Oh  ! tell  me  how  I may  get  a message  to  this 
Great  One  you  assure  me  is  my  Father?  How 
may  I send  him  word  of  the  trouble  and  sorrow 
of  poor  Tatong  ? Oh  ! kind  sir,  do  you  think  he 
would  come  and  see  ? do  you  think  he  would 
leave  his  home  long  enough  to  come  and  look 
just  once  upon  the  poor  little  wretched  slave  and 
pity  her  and  speak  words  that  would  tell  her  how 
sorry  he  is  ?” 

“Tatong,  the  Great  One,  God,  your  Father, 
of  whom  I have  told  you,  has  his  home  in  heaven. 
It  is  not  according  to  his  plan  that  he  should 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  127 

come  and  see  Tatong;  but  Tatong  may  go  to 
him.” 

Tatong  pressed  a step  nearer.  Her  eyes  were 
glowing,  her  lips  apart,  while  her  breath  came  in 
quick,  short  respirations. 

“Tatong  may  go  to  him?  Oh ! do  you  really 
mean  that  ? Could  this  be  ?” 

“Yes,  Tatong,  this  can  be;  it  is  God  who  has 
so  planned  it.  If  you  love  and  serve  him  here  as 
he  tells  you  to  do,  he  will  take  you  to  the  beauti- 
ful home  in  heaven,  there  to  live  with  him.” 

“When  will  he  take  me  ? Oh ! when  may  I 
go  ?” 

“Whenever  it  is  his  will,  child.  You  must 
first  live  out  your  life  on  earth,  then  God  will 
take  you  to  heaven.” 

“O  sir,  not  until  then ? not  until  then ? It  is 
so  hard,  so  hitter,  the  life  that  is  now,  how  can 
I endure  it?” 

“You  must  endure  it  with  what  bravery  you 
can,  my  poor  Tatong,  remembering  that  God 
sees  you ; that  he  knows  all  about  it ; that  he 
pities,  though  he  does  not  come  to  tell  you  so. 
In  the  degree  that  you  are  faithful  and  brave, 
that  you  put  your  trust  in  him  and  do  as  he 
would  have  you,  so  will  he  reward  you  when  he 
takes  you  to  live  with  him  in  heaven.” 

“Then  tell  me  what  it  is  he  wishes  me  to  do. 


128  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

0 sir,  I will  try  with  all  my  power  to  do  it, 
though  it  will  be  ever  so  hard  to  go  on  in  the  old 
life  with  the  harsh  words  and  the  blows,  and 
never  any  one  to  say  a single  kind  thing  except 
poor  Cliansa,  who  is  herself  abused,  and  little 
Korn.” 

“That  I will,  little  friend ; I will  tell  you  all 

1 can  tell,  and  the  white  brother  will  tell  you 
more.  You  must  come  here  whenever  you  can. 
Could  it  not  he  so  that  you  could  come  to  the 
mission  house,  too  ?”  he  asked  suddenly. 

“Where  is  that  ?”  asked  Tatong. 

lie  told  her.  She  did  not  know  just  where  it 
was,  hut  had  an  idea  as  to  its  direction.  By 
making  inquiries  she  felt  sure  she  could  find  it. 
But  now  a great  difficulty  presented  itself.  If 
she  went  to  the  mission  house  it  must. he  during 
the  day,  for  Mr.  Ivo  and  the  white  brother  were 
at  the  Marble  Pagoda  at  night.  Could  she  ever 
get  the  opportunity  of  going  then  ? She  feared 
not,  and  her  heart  sank. 

Mr.  Ivo  sought  to  cheer  her  all  that  he  could, 
lie  told  her  that  sometimes  she  might  he  sent  on 
an  errand  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  mission 
house.  Then  she  could  stop,  if  it  were  only  for 
a Tittle  while.  There  were  ever  so  many  sweet 
and  interesting  things  she  woidd  see  and  hear. 
There  were  girls  just  like  herself,  some  of  whom 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


129 


had  been  in  lots  as  lonely  and  almost  as  hard  as 
her  own.  They,  too,  had  had  abuse  and  harsh 
words.  But  now  they  were  bright  and  happy, 
and  were  learning  so  many  things  that  it  had 
been  said  again  and  again  women  and  girls  could 
never  learn.  There  were,  too,  sweet-faced,  gen- 
tle-tongued  women  from  the  far-away  land, 
whence  the  white  brother  had  come,  one  of  them 
his  own  wife.  They  loved  these  girls  and  cared 
for  them,  and  taught  them,  and  would  make  of 
them  some  day  such  women  as  it  had  never  been 
dreamed  there  could  be  in  Korea. 

As  Tatong  listened  to  these  words  and  saw 
with  her  mind’s  eye  the  beautiful  picture  as  it 
was  brought  before  her,  her  heart  swelled  and 
the  tears  filled  her  eyes.  Would  it  ever  be  that 
she,  too,  could  enter  this  lovely  place  and  be 
taught  as  these  girls  were  taught?  If  poor  Ta- 
tong had  ever  learned  a sentence  of  prayer,  it 
would  have  been  uttered  now.  The  cry  of  her 
heart  would  have  been,  “O  God,  my  Bather, 
grant  this  to  me  !” 

While  Mr.  Ko  was  talking  Kitze  had  ap- 
proached. Tie  gave  Tatong  a look  of  recogni- 
tion, then  stood  with  a portion  of  his  father’s 
robe  clasped  affectionately  in  his  hand. 

As  Mr.  Ko  ceased  speaking  Tatong  raised  her 
head  and  glanced  at  Kitze.  She  tried  to  speak, 


130 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


but  it  seemed  her  tongue  would  not  move.  Ob ! 
bow  sbe  wanted  to  speak ! bow  much  sbe  longed 
to  tell  tbis  good,  gentle  boy  of  tbe  gratitude  that 
was  in  ber  heart  for  wliat  be  bad  done ! 

Mr.  Ko  noticed  tbe  expression  on  ber  face. 
He  saw  tliat  sbe  wanted  to  say  something,  but 
could  not.  He  reached  out  bis  band  and  placed 
it  gently  upon  ber  shoulder. 

“What  is  it,  Tatong,  that  you  would  tell  us?” 
“O  sir,  O sir,  I want  to  speak  and  can’t ! Tbe 
words  will  not  come.  Tbe  one  by  your  side  ! It 
is  be — be  who  was  so  good  to  me,  who  picked  up 
tbe  ‘cash’  when  the  bad  boys  bad  scattered  or 
stolen  it.  I ought  to  have  thanked  him  then,  but 
I did  not.  My  heart  was  so  full,  and  I could  not 
see  for  tbe  tears.  But  now  I must  say  it,  I must 
tell  him  what  my  heart  lias  felt  all  tbis  time,  if 
only  I can  so  be  will  understand.  It  was  such  a 
great  thing  for  him  to  do,  and  it  did  seem  as 
though  I did  not  care.  But,  sir,  I did,  I did  !” 
“So  it  was  you,  Kitze,”  said  Mr.  Ko,  looking 
upon  bis  young  son  with  fondness  beaming  from 
bis  eye,  “who  rescued  as  much  of  tbe  child’s 
‘cash’  as  was  spared  to  ber  ?” 

“It  was  a little  thing  after  all,  sir,”  said  Kitze 
modestly.  “Sbe  is  making  it  appear  much 
greater  than  it  was.  You  need  not  say  more  to 
me,”  be  added  gently,  and  looking  at  Tatong. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


131 


“I  understand  what  it  is  you  would  tell  me, 
though  I feared  then  you  did  not  like  what  I had 
done.  It  seemed  to  hurt  you,  and  that  made  me 
feel  sad.  I did  not  know  it  was  because  your 
heart  was  so  full  you  could  not  speak.” 

“Well,  Mr.  Ko,”  said  a kind,  blithe  voice  at 
this  moment,  “are  you  talking  to  the  little  one 
with  a view  of  bringing  her  to  the  mission  ?” 

It  was  Mr.  Ross  who  spoke.  He  had  ad- 
vanced and  stood  near  them.  All  the  others  had 
left  the  Pagoda  bv  this  time  with  the  exception 
of  two  old  women,  who  had  lingered  for  some 
words  with  him,  and  were  just  going  out  the 
door. 

“I  wish  with  all  my  heart  I coiild,”  said  Mr. 
Ko  in  reply  to  the  question. 

“What  is  there  to  hinder  ?” 

“The  poor  child’s  surroundings  are  such,  the 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  her  coming  could  not 
he  overcome.” 

“Iler’s  is  a life  of  servitude  ?” 

“Yes,  she  is  slave  to  the  family  of  a Mr.  Hi.” 
“I  thought  it  a ease  of  that  kind.”  Then  he 
added  with  a sigh,  “The  poor  child’s  appearance 
touched  my  heart  the  first  time  I ever  saw  her.” 
He  seemed  to  forget  that  Tatong  could  hear 
him.  The  words  had  evidently  slipped  from  his 
lips  unawares. 


132 


Tatoiig,  the  Little  Slave. 


She  heard  them  plainly,  and  she  cried  quickly, 
‘*0  sir,  as  soon  as  I saw  you  to-night  I remem- 
bered it  was  you  who  had  given  me  the  candy !” 
He  turned  and  glanced  straight  into  her 
eyes. 

“Why,  how  did  you  see  my  face  well  enough 
for  that  ?”  he  asked. 

“I  had  hut  a glimpse,  sir.  It  was  enough.  I 
never  could  have  forgotten  you  after  that.  Then, 
sir,”  she  added,  and  hesitated. 

“Go  on,”  he  said  kindly. 

“You,  sir,  are  the  first  one  of  your  people  I 
have  ever  seeu ; that  is,  near  by.” 

“That  is  strange,”  he  said  quickly.  “There 
are  several  of  us  here  now.” 

“Yes,  sir ; so  I have  heard,  but  I have  never 
seen  another  except  at  a distance,  and  then  he 
was  walking  away.” 

“I  hope,  little  friend,”  said  Mr.  Ross  after  a 
pause,  “that  you  enjoyed  the  candy.” 

“O  sir,  I did  not  get  to  eat  it.  I am  so  sorry 
to  have  to  tell  you.  The  old  woman  who  is  the 
mother  of  Yakta,  who  has  the  great  ox,  Mokpo, 
who  came  to  the  Kurdong  with  the  pavilion  on 
him  all  hung  with  yellow — Oh ! she  frightened 
me  so  that  market  day,  just  after  you  had  given 
me  the  candy,  that  I let  it  fall  into  her  lap  and 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  133 

ever  I could.  I was  so  afraid  she  would  call  to 
me.” 

“Why,  she  must  be  a dreadful  creature  to  have 
frightened  you  so  ?” 

“O  six*,  she  is ! Her  face  is  full  of  scowls.  It 
is  terrible,  and  she  has  great  fangs  as  the  tigers 
have.  Do  you  not  remember,  sir,”  turning  to 
Mr.  Ko,  “how  she  glared  at  yoxx  the  day  of  the 
Kurdong  when  you  came  to  the  side  of  the  pa- 
vilion and — -” 

“What !”  cried  Mr.  Ivo,  and  so  sharply  it  made 
poor  Tatong  jump  and  caused  both  Mr.  Ross 
and  Kitze  to  look  at  him  in  sudden  surprise. 
“What ! you  were  there  ? You  saw  ? Then  you 
can  tell  me  what  I must  know.  Where  does  this 
creature  live  ? Quick  ! speak  the  words.  Where 
can  I find  her  ?” 

“O  sir,  I cannot  tell.  All  I know  is  that  it  is 
out  the  South  Gate  along  the  river,  near  to  the 
village  where  there  are  many  chestnuts,  and 
there  are  miriolcs  by  the  way.” 

“O  child,  try  to  think ! Have  you  not  heard 
that  which  will  enable  you  to  give  me  the  direc- 
tions more  clearly  ?” 

“There  is  nothing.  I have  tried  to  remember 
more,  but  I cannot.  It  was  Hakta  who  told  me. 
Maybe  I will  see  her  again,  and  she  will  say 
the  words  to  me  once  more.  Then,  sir,  I will  do 
my  best  to  remember  better.” 


134 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“It  is  the  old  woman  whom  I have  long 
sought/’  he  said,  turning  to  Mr.  Boss ; “she  who 
has  made  so  much  sorrow  and  bitterness  for  my 
life.” 

They  were  out  of  the  Pagoda  by  this  time  and 
standing  for  a few  moments  under  the  stars  ere 
they  said  good-night  to  Tatong.  How  strange 
and  sweet  the  words  sounded  in  her  ears ! She 
had  never  heard  them  before.  She  had  to  be 
told  their  meaning.  How  they  lingered  in  her 
heart ! What  music  they  made  in  her  ears ! 

To  his  good-night  Mr.  Ko  had  added,  “Be 
brave,  my  child !” 

“My  child  !”  The  term  struck  her  with  pecu- 
liar force.  More  than  once  that  evening  he  had 
used  it,  and  every  time  Tatong’s  heart  had 
leaped  in  recognition  with  a strange,  glad  feel- 
ing. Oh,  if  it  could  really  he  ! If  there  were  in 
the  world  such  a father  for  her,  and  in  heaven 
One  so  great  and  powerful  as  God,  the  Father, 
Oh  ! she  felt  the  happiness  would  be  greater  than 
she  could  hear ! She  would  surely  die  with  the 
joy  of  it. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


The  Wedding  at  Me.  NTs. 

IIE  go-between  had  been  again  to  the  home 


of  Hr.  Ni,  and  now  the  time  for  Euyu’s 
wedding  was  set.  At  first  they  bad  intended  to 
await  the  return  of  Mr.  Ni,  but  of  late  a messen- 
ger bad  come  from  him  to  the  effect  that  matters 
regarding  the  army  were  in  such  an  uncertain 
state  he  did  not  know  just  when  he  could  get  his 
leave  of  absence.  lie  directed  that  Fuyu’s  wed- 
ding come  off  as  intended,  and  that  Yin,  his  old- 
est son,  have  charge  of  all  the  arrangements  with 
the  same  power  to  act  as  himself.  This  suited 
Fuyu  exactly,  for  she  had  been  afraid  that  she 
would  have  to  wait  the  coming  of  her  father, 
never  mind  howr  long  a time  it  might  be.  Her 
fear  now  was  that  her  brother  would  not  have 
things  carried  out  in  the  style  her  father  would. 

Fuyu,  though  but  a child  in  years — she  was 
only  fifteen — was  a woman  at  heart.  She  looked 
forward  to  this  event  as  the  greatest  of  her  life. 
There  was  nothing  that  could  ever  happen  to 
her  that  would  give  her  more  self-consequence  or 


135 


136 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


cause  lier  more  elevation.  According  to  Fuvu’s 
way  of  reckoning  it,  every  unmarried  woman 
who  looked  upon  her  would  be  overcome  with 
envy,  for  was  it  not  considered  the  deepest  dis- 
grace for  a woman  to  reach  the  age  of  eighteen, 
even  less,  without  being  spoken  in  marriage  ? 

Poor,  silly  Fuyu!  how  soon  would  all  things 
become  changed.  How  quickly  would  the  roseate 
hue,  the  glamour  that  now  surrounded  her,  turn 
to  the  chill,  gray  pall  of  ill-usuage  and  neglect, 
woman’s  well-nigh  universal  lot  after  marriage 
in  Korea,  and  even  before.  Mr.  Kibi  might  he 
better  than  many  of  his  kind,  doubtless  was,  but, 
hedged  about  as  he  was  by  the  harsh  customs 
and  requirements,  there  was  but  little  prospect 
for  anything  but  a hard  lot  for  Fuyu.  Even 
her  name  would  be  a thing  of  the  past.  But  she 
did  not  give  this  a thought  at  present.  Her 
whole  mind  was  concentrated  on  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  coming  ceremony. 

Two  days  before  the  wedding  the  marriage 
contract  was  sent  in.  This  came  from  the  bride- 
groom’s father.  Mr.  Yin  received  it.  There 
were  certain  provisions  set  forth  as  well  as  ques- 
tions asked,  to  which  answers  must  be  given. 
The  same  evening  the  contract  came  hack.  It 
was  satisfactory.  The  necessary  signatures  had 
all  been  affixed.  By  the  same  bearers  Fuyu’s 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


137 


prospective  father-in-law  sent  the  pieces  of  silk 
from  which  her  outer  wedding  garments  were 
to  he  made.  Fuyu’s  eyes  danced  when  she  saw 
them. 

“Get  at  once  to  work/’  she  said  roughly  to 
Tatong.  “You  must  sew  with  all  your  might. 
Mind  now,  if  I catch  you  halting  the  first  time 
I’ll  see  to  it  that  that  mouth  of  yours  gets  noth- 
ing to  put  in  it  till  the  last  stitch  is  made.” 

The  others  now  gathered  about,  each  taking 
the  portion  of  the  garment  she  was  to  make. 
But  the  bulk  of  the  work  was  to  fall  upon  poor 
Tatong.  She  sewed  until  her  back  felt  sore  and 
stiff  and  her  fingers  were  pricked  and  aching. 
She  strained  her  eyes  until  she  could  see  no 
more,  then  Mrs.  Hi  ordered  her  to  get  out  the 
rush  lights. 

“You  are  a trifling  thing,”  declared  Mrs.  Hi. 
“You  have  not  sewed  as  you  ought,  or  you  would 
have  more  done.  How  you  will  sew  until  I tell 
you  to  stop,  if  it  is  through  half  the  night.” 

Poor  Tatong!  it  was  true  her  hands  had  not 
moved  with  the  swiftness  they  could  have  shown, 
for  her  thoughts,  instead  of  being  on  the  cloth, 
were  far,  far  away,  and  now  and  then  her  needle 
paused  altogether. 

It  was  a funny  needle.  It  had  an  ear  instead 
of  an  eye,  and  Tatong’s  thimble  was  of  stiff 


138 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


paper  instead  of  silver  or  other  metal,  such  as 
those  to  which  you  are  used. 

Tatong  was  thinking  of  the  Marble  Pagoda, 
of  Mr.  Ko,  the  kind  one,  of  the  white  brother, 
and  the  gentle,  manly  Ivitze.  How  she  longed  to 
see  them ! How  her  heart  cried  ont  to  be  with 
them  again ! What  a sweet  atmosphere  sur- 
rounded them  ! an  atmosphere  entirely  different 
from  any  the  poor  little  slave  had  ever  known. 
For  that  matter,  it  was  different  from  anything 
of  which  she  had  ever  dreamed. 

They,  the  gentle,  kind  ones,  were  doubtless  on 
their  way  to  the  Pagoda  even  now.  How  eager 
and  interested  the  crowd  that  would  gather 
about  them ! Wliat  happiness  would  glow  on 
their  faces ! Oh,  if  she  could  only  he  one  of 
them!  Why  did  not  Mrs.  Mi  think  of  some- 
thing for  which  to  send  her  ? She  felt  almost 
like  proposing  something  herself.  But,  no,  that 
would  not  do,  for  Mrs.  Mi  was  very  alert.  She 
would  he  sure  to  suspect,  and  then  there  would 
be  more  sharp,  cruel  words  for  Tatong. 

Once  again  the  desire  came  to  Tatong  to  tell 
Mrs.  Mi  of  the  gathering  of  the  little  circle  of 
earnest  listeners  in  the  Marble  Pagoda.  Per- 
haps she,  too,  might  go  to  hear.  And  what  might 
not  be  the  effect  of  these  beautiful  things  upon 
even  poor,  harsli-hearted  Mrs.  Mi?  But  just  as 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


139 


Tatong,  after  a hard  battle  with  herself,  had 
opened  her  lips  to  speak,  there  came  that  stern, 
sharp  command  from  her  mistress  and  the  order 
to  get  out  the  rush  lights.  It  effectually  sealed 
her  lips. 

By  noon  of  the  next  day  the  garments  were 
finished.  Then  came  the  sacrificing  ordered  by 
Mr.  Yin  before  the  ancestral  tablets.  Their  an- 
cestors, he  declared,  must  he  acquainted  with  the 
event  about  to  take  place,  else  might  they  he 
angry  and  show  their  displeasure  in  a disagree- 
able way  if  they  were  neglected.  It  would  never 
do  for  any  evil  to  happen.  There  must  he  plenty 
of  rice,  fruit,  and  rnochi,  and  they  must  have 
candles  instead  of  the  dim  rush  lights.  They, 
the  respected  dead,  must  not  be  insulted  by  be- 
ing asked  to  take  a look  at  the  offerings  by  so 
poor  a light.  This  sacrifice  took  place  shortly 
after  the  coming  of  the  evening  star,  even  Kom 
being  required  to  do  his  part. 

At  last  the  day  dawned,  though  it  seemed  to 
Fuyu  it  never  would,  and,  alas!  poor  Fuyu,  on 
this  very  day,  even  before  the  ceremony  had  be- 
gun that  pronounced  her  the  wife  of  Mr.  Kibi, 
the  sign  of  her  servitude  had  been  set  upon  her. 
This  was  the  sealing  together  of  her  eyelids  by 
means  of  a thick  paste  that  did  its  part  so  well 
not  a ray  of  light  found  its  way  to  her.  She  was 


140 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


tlien  arrayed  in  her  robes  of  silk,  with  red,  the 
emblem  of  rejoicing,  the  principal  color  through- 
out. Her  face  was  covered  with  powder,  red 
spots  being  painted  on  it  here  and  there.  Her 
hair  was  divided  into  two  parts,  each  of  which 
was  rolled,  one  being  placed  upon  the  extreme 
top  of  her  head,  the  other  near  the  back. 
Through  each  Avas  run  a long  metal  hairpin  fully 
a foot  in  length. 

Ivom,  who  had  been  on  the  watch,  now  ran  in, 
and,  with  much  noise,  informed  them  that  Mr. 
Ivibi  Avas  coming.  He  Avas  on  horseback,  and 
AA'itli  him  his  father  and  several  attendants. 
Two  of  these  Avalked  before  him,  both  attired  in 
red.  One  of  them  carried  a large,  white  um- 
brella, and  the  other  a goose,  AA’itli  a red  string 
run  through  her  bill.1 

The  bridgroom  Avas  finely  arrayed.  He  had 
on  a robe  of  light  blue  shot  with  red.  Around 
his  Avaist  was  a girdle  of  deep  crimson,  fastened 
AA’itli  a large  buckle  of  rhinoceros  horn.  His 
hair  AA’as  at  the  top  of  his  head  in  the  usual  mar- 
riage knot,  and  OA’er  it  a little  cap  of  black  horse- 
hair, through  the  meshes  of  which,  Avlien  the 
outer  hat  was  removed,  it  gleamed,  for  Mr.  Ivibi 
had  given  it  a vigorous  polishing  with  lainp- 

1 The  goose  is  regarded  as  the  emblem  of  fidelity  by 
the  Koreans. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  141 

black.  Ills  outer  bat,  an  immense  affair,  which 
looked  exactly  like  a flower  pot  turned  down  on  a 
table,  was  held  securely  by  means  of  throat 
latchet  ribbons,  with  pads  for  the  ears. 

Behind  Mr.  Kibi  came  ten  or  twelve  other  at- 
tendants, each  bearing  an  unlighted  lantern  cov- 
ered with  red  paper.  Ilis  father  rode  beside 
him.  lie,  too,  was  arrayed  in  gay  apparel,  but 
bis  face  was  as  solemn  as  that  of  a judge  sitting 
on  the  bench. 

A platform  had  been  arranged  in  the  princi- 
pal apartment.  It  was  decked  with  streamers  of 
red,  to  which  were  fastened  bits  of  tinsel  and 
paper  of  various  colors.  In  front  of  this  was  a 
table  covered  with  a red  cloth. 

The  go-between  had  charge  of  everything. 
She  was  a fussy,  noisy  old  woman,  used  to  hav- 
ing her  own  way,  and  bent  on  having  it  in  spite 
of  everything.  She  and  Fuyu  came  near  a col- 
lision several  times.  But  now  that  Fuyu’s  eyes 
were  sealed,  she  was  not  to  speak  a word,  not 
even  after  the  ceremony,  at  least  not  for  some 
time.  The  longer  she  remained  quiet  the  more 
wisdom  would  it  be  decided  she  possessed. 

As  the  house  was  reached  Mr.  Kibi  took  the 
goose  from  the  hands  of  the  man  and  himself 
bore  it  in,  handing  it  to  the  go-between,  who 
stood  ready  to  receive  it.  In  the  meantime  the 


142 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


family  and  wedding  guests  had  grouped  them- 
selves about  the  platform,  the  bridegroom  and 
his  attendants  standing  as  far  apart  as  the  size 
of  the  room  would  permit. 

Fuvu  was  now  led  in  by  two  women,  each  of 
whom  held  her  hand.  Preceding  them  came  the 
go-between  hearing  the  goose.  The  bird  was 
restless  and  showed  her  displeasure.  To  quiet 
her  the  old  woman  had  fed  her  with  moclii,  alter- 
nately passing  portions  to  her  own  mouth. 

As  Fuyu  appeared  Mr.  Kibi  ascended  the 
platform,  in  the  center  of  which  a mat  had  been 
placed,  and  on  it  a small  table  with  rice,  fruit, 
tea  and  moclii.  Fuyu  was  guided  by  the  two 
women  to  a position  on  this  mat  directly  in  front 
of  Mr.  Kibi.  The  go-between,  still  hearing  the 
goose,  placed  herself 'at  Mr.  Ivibi’s  right.  Di- 
rected by  her  attendants,  Fuyu  bowed  twice  to 
Mr.  Kibi,  then  twice  to  her  future  father-in-law, 
who  stood  near.  As  she  finished  Mr.  Kibi  in 
turn  bowed  four  times  to  her.  These  hows  were 
very  elaborate,  and  in  order  to  give  them,  each 
bent  the  body  until  the  forehead  was  within  only 
a short  space  of  the  floor.  The  marriage  cere- 
mony was  now  at  an  end,  for  in  Korea  the  bow- 
ing forms  very  nearly  all  that  there  is  of  it. 

The  bride  sank  upon  her  knees  beside  the  lit- 
tle table,  the  groom  doing  likewise.  Then  the 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


143 


go-between  poured  out  a cup  of  tea  and  handed 
it  to  the  groom.  He  merely  touched  it  to  his 
lips  and  handed  it  back  again,  when  it  was  con- 
veyed to  the  bride.  She,  in  turn,  merely  placed 
her  lips  to  the  cup,  after  which  it  was  returned 
to  the  groom.  This  time  he  drank  it.  In  like 
manner  the  rice,  fruit,  and  other  articles  of  food 
on  the  table  were  served  and  disposed  of,  the 
groom  eating,  the  bride  making  only  a pretense 
of  so  doing.  In  the  meantime  the  red  cord  had 
been  slipped  from  the  heak  of  the  goose,  and  she, 
too,  had  been  allowed  to  partake  of  the  rice  and 
mochi  from  the  wedding  table,  the  go-between 
feeding  her. 

The  bride  and  groom  now  arose,  each  proceed- 
ing to  separate  apartments,  the  goose  being 
borne  'in  front  of  the  bride.  Once  within  the 
room,  Fuyu  could  eat  all  she  desired  in  private. 
The  departure  of  the  newly-wedded  pair  was 
the  signal  for  the  general  feast  to  begin,  and 
the  family  and  guests  were  soon  seated  around 
the  various  small  tables  that  had  been  provided. 
In  an  astonishingly  short  space  of  time  every- 
thing in  the  shape  of  edibles  had  almost  entirely 
disappeared. 

Having  satisfied  themselves,  the  guests  de- 
parted one  by  one.  Mr.  Kibi  remained  until 
well  into  the  afternoon,  then  he  returned  to  his 


144 


T along,  the  Little  Slave. 


father’s  house,  leaving  the  command  for  Fuyu  to 
follow.  In  about  an  hour  from  the  time  of  his 
departure  she  came  out  of  her  room  all  bundled 
up,  no  portion  of  her  face  showing  except  her 
eyes  and  a narrow  strip  of  her  forehead.  This 
seemed  really  a burlesque,  since  the  poor  thing’s 
eyes  were  still  sealed.  Hot  as  yet  had  she  looked 
upon  her  husband’s  face.  Only  as  the  go-be- 
tween had  described  him  had  she  an  idea  as  to 
his  appearance. 

It  was  now  nearly  dusk,  so  two  women,  with 
Tatong,  and  a man  hearing  a couple  of  lanterns 
were  sent  to  attend  her.  Arriving  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Kibi,  she  was  presented  to  her  mother-in- 
law,  and  for  the  second  time  to  her  father-in-law, 
making  profound  hows  to  each,  her  eyes  still 
sealed,  the  powder  and  red  patches  on  her  face. 
This  ceremony  completed,  her  husband  ordered 
her  hack  to  the  home  of  her  parents  until  it 
should  he  his  pleasure  to  come  for  her,  which  he 
did  later  in  the  evening.  It  was  then  that  her 
eyes  were  unsealed. 

Fuyu  was  now  the  wife  of  Mr.  Kibi,  not  Mrs. 
Kibi,  as  would  have  been  said  in  our  Christian 
land.  Hever  again  would  she  have  a name  of 
her  own,  unless  now  and  then  her  husband,  as  a 
special  favor,  permitted  her  to  he  called  by  it  to 
serve  some  purpose.  How  she  was  to  be  re- 


STREET  IN  SEOUL,  KOREA. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  145 

gar  (led,  not  as  a human  being,  but  as  a slave,  a 
bearer  of  burdens,  as  were  tbe  donkeys  and  oxen 
of  tbe  streets.  Poor,  weak,  silly  Fuyu!  how 
quickly  would  she  awaken'  from  tbe  glamor  of 
the  dream  by  which  she  bad  been  possessed. 
Even  now  was  she  realizing,  though  in  a small 
degree,  what  it  meant  to  be  a wife  in  Korea. 

Tbe  day  following  the  wedding  Tatong  was 
sent  into  tbe  streets.  Fuyu  bad  gone  home  with 
Mr.  Ivibi,  but,  in  the  baste  of  her  departure,  she 
bad  left  something  that  Mrs.  Xi  declared  she 
must  have  without  delay;  so  Tatong  was  dis- 
patched to  carry  it.  She  went  with  all  speed, 
for  she  had  determined  that  on  her  way  back 
she  would  look  into  the  Marble  Pagoda.  Even 
the  sight  of  it,  she  felt,  would  be  as  the  dew  of 
joy  to  her  thirsty  heart.  Just  to  let  her  eyes 
rest  upon  the  spot  where  the  kind  and  gentle 
ones  had  stood,  and  where  she  had  heard  such 
beautiful  truths — oh,  what  happiness  it  would 
be ! 

As  usual,  the  streets  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Pagoda  were  somewhat  deserted,  though  to-day, 
in  going  thither,  Tatong  had  met  or  overtaken 
more  people  than  at  any  previous  time.  Two  of 
the  men  she  passed  were  talking  excitedly.  They 
were  so  much  taken  up  with  what  they  were 
saying  that  they  had  even  stopped  in  the  street 


146  Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 

to  finish  the  discussion.  Tatong  heard  one  of 
them  say, 

‘‘It  served  him  right.  He  had  no  business  to 
take  up  with  that  white-faced  devil  and  follow 
his  teachings.  I knew  it  would  lead  to  evil.  I 
told  him  so,  hut  he  would  not  believe  me.  In 
future  I guess  he’ll  pay  attention  to  a kindly 
warning.” 

Tatong  started  and  looked  at  the  men  closely. 
Could  it  he  that  they  were  talking  about  the 
white  brother  and  Mr.  Ko  ? Whom  else  could  it 
be  ? There  was  surely  no  one  else  who  had 
“teachings”  to  give,  or  whom  they  called  “a 
white  devil.”  Her  heart  was  urging  her  to 
speak  to  them,  to  find  out  what  they  meant,  hut 
her  courage  was  not  sufficient  at  the  moment. 
Just  as  she  had  summoned  enough  and  was 
about  to  open  her  lips  one  of  the  men  looked 
up  and  saw  that  she  had  stopped  to  listen.  With 
a scowl,  which  was  shared  bv  the  other,  who  had 
also  glanced  up,  he  ordered  her  to  he  off  about 
her  business.  Tatong  did  not  wa i t for  a second 
bidding.  She  was  too  frightened  to  remain  after 
that. 

Xot  until  she  had  reached  the  Marble  Pagoda 
did  she  remember  that  it  might  he  so  that  she 
could  not  get  within.  Donbtless  those  who  wor- 
shipped there  had  some  way  of  securing  it.  The 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


147 


door  would  be  fastened.  Could  slie  open  it  ? 
But  to  her  joy  she  saw  that  it  was  ajar.  With  a 
timid  hand  and  a heart  that  beat  so  she  could 
hear  every  stroke  of  it,  Tatong  pressed  open  the 
door,  and,  stooping,  entered. 

Though  the  sun  was  shining  without,  there 
was  only  a gray  light  like  twilight  inside  the 
Pagoda,  especially  within  the  apartment  where 
the  worshippers  had  assembled  on  that  memor- 
able night,  not  a single  detail  of  which  Could 
ever  escape  the  remembrance  of  Tatong. 

She  pushed  open  the  door  of  this  inner  cham- 
ber like  some  one  entering  a sacred  place.  It 
was  sacred  to  her,  every  particle  of  dust,  every 
wisp  of  straw  that  had  collected  upon  its  stone 
flooring.  She  looked  about  it,  her  heart  swell- 
ing, her  eyes  filling  with  the  tears  that  were  soon 
dropping  one  by  one  upon  her  cheeks.  She  sank 
to  a kneeling  posture  beside  the  fragment  of 
stone  on  which  Mr.  Ko  had  sat  that  night  with 
the  little  circle  of  rapt  listeners  clustered  about 
him.  She  threw  her  arms  across  it,  and,  bowing 
her  head  until  it  rested  upon  them,  sobbed  out 
the  words : 

“Oh ! if  I could  only  live  always  with  one  so 
kind,  so  gentle,  so  good  !” 

There  was  a stir  beside  her.  Another  head 
that  had  been  similiarly  bowed  was  raised  sud- 


148  T atony,  the  Little  Slave. 

denly  to  look  at  her.  The  room  was  occupied, 
though  she  had  not  as  jet  discovered  it. 

‘‘Poor  girl !”  said  a voice  full  of  sympathy, 
“what  is  it  that  is  the  matter  with  you  ?” 

Tatong  raised  her  head,  and  would  have 
sprung  to  her  feet,  hut  a hand  detained  her. 

“I  have  frightened  you.  I did  not  mean  to. 
Oh,  I am  so  sorry  ! Don’t  go ; at  least,  not  until 
I have  said  something  to  you  I want  to  say.” 
The  speaker  was  Kitze.  A moment  more  and 
she  recognized  him ; then  she  sank  hack  wil- 
lingly, satisfied  to  remain,  nay,  doing  so  with 
gladness.  For  if  she  could  not  see  Mr.  Ko  or 
the  white  brother,  was  not  Ivitze  the  next  best  ? 
Did  he  not  know,  too,  some  of  the  beautiful 
things  the  others  could  tell  ? Oh ! how  many 
questions  she  wanted  to  ask  him ! And  he  was 
not  like  other  boys ; he  would  not  treat  her 
roughly.  She  felt  sure  of  that.  lie  would  not 
scowl  at  her  and  tell  her  to  hold  her  tongue.  lie 
would  answer  her  questions.  He  would  tell  her 
as  much  as  he  could  of  the  things  she  longed  to 
know. 

As  she  turned  to  him  she  saw  his  face  more 
clearly,  for  he  had  drawn  nearer,  and  she  had 
grown  more  used  to  the  dim  light.  With  a start 
of  surprise  she  noted  that  he,  too,  had  been  cry- 
ing. The  tears  were  still  damp  on  his  cheek. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  149 

Such  a strange  thing  as  it  was ! Tatong  had 
never  seen  a boy  cry,  at  least,  not  a boy  so  large 
as  Kitze.  Usually,  their  faces  were  taunting  or 
sullen  and  angry,  never  tender  or  moist  with 
tears. 

“Why  is  it  that  the  tears  have  come  for  you  ?” 
she  asked  him  suddenly,  her  own  dark  eyes  grow- 
ing misty  again  as  they  rested  upon  his  face. 

“I  cry  for  one  who  is  dearer  to  me  than  all 
others  of  earth/’  replied  Kitze,  “for  him  who  is 
my  father.  He  has  been  hurt,  badly  hurt,  and 
it  will  take  some  time  ere  he  is  himself.  He  is 
even  now  lying  upon  the  bed  at  the  home  of  the 
white  brother  with  the  bandage  about  his  head.” 

Seeing  the  startled  look  in  her  eyes,  he  con- 
tinued : 

“For  declaring  the  precious  truths  of  the 
Jesus  Doctrine  to  those  who  had  gathered  about 
him  to  learn,  he  was  stoned.  One  struck  him 
close  to  the  temple  and  came  near  taking  his 
life.  He  must  lie  for  days  with  his  head  in  the 
cloth.  Oh,  it  is  dreadful!  I could  not  bear  to 
see  it ; and  so  I have  come  here  to  weep.  It 
seems  to  me  my  heart  will  go  out  with  the  grief 
of  it.” 

“Then  it  was  too  true  what  I heard  the  men 
saying  as  I came  along,”  exclaimed  Tatong,  her 
own  tears  falling. 


150 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“What  did  you  hear  ?” 

‘‘That  evil  had  happened  to  one  who  would 
teach  what  he  had  no  business  to.  Oh ! I was 
afraid  from  their  words  it  was  he  whom  I know 
as  the  kind  stranger,  he  who  has  been  so  kind  to 
a poor  little  wretched  slave  like  me,  for  whom  no 
one  else  cared.” 

“Yes,  it  was  down  by  the  South  Gate.  The 
white  brother  had  warned  him  not  to  he  too 
open.  But  his  heart  was  so  full  of  it,  of  that 
which  he  had  to  tell,  and  those  who  wished  to 
know  were  so  eager,  so  hungry  for  the  words. 
He  felt  that  he  must  speak.  But  do  not  talk  so 
about  yourself,”  he  added,  turning  his  eyes  en- 
treatingly  upon  Tatong,  “you  are  God's  child, 
and  lie  cares.”  - 

A sudden  glow  leaped  to  her  face. 

“Oh !”  she  cried,  her  voice  almost  beyond  her 
control,  so  deep  was  her  emotion.  “You,  too, 
know  that  ?” 

“Know  what?”  he  asked,  not  quite  under- 
standing her. 

“That  God,  the  Father,  is  my  father.” 

“Yes,  I know  it.  Does  it  not  make  you  happy 
to  feel  that  it  is  true  ?” 

“Oh,  it  does ! it  does ! Yet  it  seems  too  great 
to  be  true.  How  can  it  he  true  ? He,  God,  the 
Father,  is  so  powerful.  He  has  done  so  many 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


151 


mighty  things.  How  can  a poor,  little  slave 
girl  really  be  his  child  ?” 

Still  the  old  doubt,  the  old  questioning.  The 
boy  looked  at  her  much  disturbed.  Although 
the  sweet,  true  light  glowed  with  steady  flame 
within  his  heart,  still  it  was  not  with  a radiance 
that  shone  very  far  as  yet.  There  were  many 
things  he  did  not  understand;  others  that  he 
understood  hut  could  not  explain.  Besides,  he 
usually  depended  upon  the  white  brother  and 
his  father  to  answer  all  perplexing  questions 
like  these.  But  now,  even  as  he  hesitated,  the 
answer,  as  an  inspiration,  came  to  him. 

“God  loves  all  because  he  made  all,  even  the 
weakest  and  lowliest.  He  is  like  a parent  to 
whom  all  his  children  are  dear,  because  they  are 
his.” 

“ Not  the  girls  ! Oh,  not  the  girls !”  said  Tatong 
sadly.  “lie  surely  does  not  care  for  the  girls.” 
“Yes,  the  girls  just  the  same  as  the  hoys,”  de- 
clared Kitze.  “Did  you  not  hear  my  father  and 
the  white  brother  say  that  God  made  no  diifei’- 
ence  between  men  and  women  ? So  does  he  not 
either  between  hoys  and  girls.  One  is  as  dear 
to  him  as  the  others,  because  he  made  each.  He 
is  their  Heavenly  Parent ; they  are  his  earthly 
children — that  is,  if  they  obey  him  and  do  as  lie 
wishes  them.” 


152 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


a0h  !”  cried  Tatong  quickly,  “will  yon  not  tell 
me  what  it  is  God,  the  Father,  -wishes  me  to 
do  ?” 

For  a moment  Kitze  looked  away  from  her. 
He  could  not  meet  the  intensity  of  the  glow 
within  her  eyes.  And  how  could  he  answer  that 
question  ? Oh  ! if  his  father  or  the  white  brother 
were  only  there  ! But,  though  only  a young  sol- 
dier of  the  Lord  Jesus,  Kitze  -was  nevertheless 
a brave  one.  Lie  quickly  resolved  to  tell  her  in 
as  clear  a way  as  he  could. 

“To  do  as  God,  the  Father,  -would  have  us 
do,”  said  Kitze,  “is  to  follow  the  Jesus  Doc- 
trine, to  he  a Christian.” 

“To  be  a Christian?”  repeated  Tatong,  look- 
ing astonished,  overcome  with  perplexity. 

“Yes,  to  he  like  God’s  Son,  Jesus,  the  Christ, 
the  Saviour,  -who  was  sent  to  earth  to  show  us 
how  to  live.  He  loved  every  body,  he  thought 
of  them  before  he  did  of  himself.  He  spoke 
nothing  against  any  one,  hut  always  found  the 
best  in  them  he  could.  He  -was  tender  and  merci- 
ful and  just.  He  pitied  even  the  little  bird  that 
had  no  food.  But  greatest  of  all,”  continued 
Kitze,  his  voice  falling  to  a tender  cadence,  “he 
gave  his  life  that  others  might  be  happy.” 

“He  loved  every  body.”  Those  words  had 
caught  and  held  Tatong’s  thoughts  so  that  she 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  153 

had  not  followed  Kitze  through  the  remainder 
of  the  sentences.  To  do  then  as  God,  the  Father, 
would  have  you  do,  you  must  love  everybody  as 
Jesus,  his  Son,  had  done.  Could  this  be  pos- 
sible ? How  could  it  be  that  one  could  love  those 
who  gave  that  one  only  abuse  and  cruelty  ? 
Could  she  love  Mrs.  Hi  now?  Ho ; she  felt  sure 
that  she  could  not.  The  thought  recalled  Mrs. 
Hi  to  her  vividly,  and  then  like  a flash  came  the 
remembrance  that  she  had  been  gone  a long 
while,  much  longer  than  she  intended.  If  she 
did  not  speed  her  return,  what  might  not  be  the 
consequence  ? 

She  sprang  up  with  such  haste  that  Ivitze 
looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

“I  must  go  now,”  she  said.  “I  have  stayed 
longer  than  I ought.  Oh ! I do  thank  you  so 
much  for  what  you  have  told  me ! and  I will  re- 
member the  words.”  She  paused,  then  added, 
her  voice  showing  that  she  was  on  the  verge  of 
tears,  “Tell  him  who  is  your  father,  the  kind 
stranger,  so  gentle  and  good,  the  great  sorrow 
my  heart  has  for  what  has  come  to  him.” 


CHAPTER  X. 

Tiie  Faithfulness  of  a Little  Heart.  . 

A FEW  days  later  a message,  through  a 
trusted  messenger,  came  from  Mr.  Xi  to 
his  sons,  by  them  to  he  given  to  his  wife.  He 
did  not  like  the  way  the  war  was  then  going.  It 
seemed  to  him  the  Japanese  were  destined  to 
have  it  all  their  own  way.  In  a short  while,  it 
Avas  his  belief,  the  Chinese  army  Avould  he 
obliged  to  give  way  to  them.  In  the  tAvo  or 
three  battles  that  had  already  occurred  the  Chi- 
nese forces  had  been  badly  routed.  Therefore, 
Mr.  Xi  did  not  propose  to  stay  and  face  the  con- 
sequences that  would  come  sooner  or  later.  Xo; 
lie  had  a plan,  and  in  secret  it  Avas  conveyed  to 
them  hv  his  trusted  friend,  Mr.  Yana.  The  plan 
Avas  this:  He,  Mr.  Xi,  would  get  the  leaA'e  that 
had  been  promised  him,  hut,  instead  of  coming 
home,  from  Avhcnce  he  might  aftenvards  be 
forced  hack  into  the  army,  he  Avould  proceed  to 
Vladivostok,  the  Russian  frontier,  and  there 
aAvait  their  coming.  They  must  leave  Seoiil 
Avithout  delay,  so  as  to  make  the  journey  ere  the 
state  of  the  country  became  more  disturbed  than 
it  Avas  at  present.  Their  final  destination  Avas  to 
154 


T atony,  the  Little  Slave. 


155 


be  a small  Russian  town  that  had  already  a con- 
siderable sprinkling  of  Korean  settlers.  In  Mr. 
Hi’s  opinion,  the  war  would  take  such  a turn 
that  Korea  would  be  anything  but  a desirable 
country  in  which  to  live.  Hence  he  wished  to 
be  well  out  of  it.  Mr.  Hi’s  further  instructions 
were  that  they  dispose  of  the  household  effects 
as  quietly  as  possible,  and  also  of  the  slave, 
Tatong.  There  was  no  use  to  be  bothered  with 
her,  especially  as,  in  the  place  to  which  they 
were  going,  she  would  not  be  needed.  In  the 
event  that  they  could  not  dispose  of  her  quickly, 
she  was  to  he  left  behind.  She  could  look  out 
for  herself. 

Though  this  message  had  come  in  secret,  the 
members  of  Mr.  Hi’s  family  wrere  not  secret  in 
discussing  it,  at  least,  among  themselves.  Thus 
it  was  not  long  before  poor  Tatong  had  over- 
heard much  of  that  which  was  to  be  done.  The 
cruel  thing  contemplated  with  reference  to  her- 
self pierced  her  heart.  Hot  that  she  felt  any 
sorrow  at  parting  with  the  family  of  Mr.  Hi, 
with  the  exception  of  Chansa  and  Kom  ; hut  this 
they  had  planned  was  so  hard-hearted,  so  dread- 
ful. To  be  sold  as  a beast  was  sold,  to  any  one 
who  would  buy,  and  in  the  event  they  would  not, 
to  he  cast  out  to  starve,  to  die ! Oh,  how  could 
they  he  so  cruel  ? 


156  Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 

That  evening,  soon  after  the  stars  had  come 
and  her  work  for  the  time  was  over,  Tatong  sat 
crouched  against  the  mulberry  tree  that  grew  in 
the  little  strip  of  ground  between  Mr.  NTs  house 
and  that  next  to  it.  Her  head  was  bowed  upon 
her  knees ; she  was  weeping  bitterly.  At  her  feet 
crouched  Kijun.  He  had  come  eagerly  seek- 
ing her  notice,  but,  finding  it  not  given,  in  de- 
spair had  lain  down,  then  gone  fast  asleep. 
What  was  she  to  do  ? Again  and  again  Tatong 
asked  this  question,  for  on  the  morrow  she  knew 
that  the  worst  would  come.  She  had  heard 
them  say  that  all  must  be  settled  then,  as  on  the 
next  day  thereafter,  as  early  as  they  could,  they 
would  begin  the  journey.  Yes,  on  the  morrow 
she  was  to  be  sold  again  as  a slave,  for  a pur- 
chaser had  at  length  been  found.  It  was  an  old 
man,  a dreadful  creature,  she  heard  them  say. 
He  had  other  slaves,  and  they  were  cruelly 
treated. 

“She  will  at  last  get  what  she  deserves !”  de- 
clared Mrs.  Ni  with  a hard  face.  “I  must  say 
I am  glad  of  it.  She  certainly  has  been  a trial 
to  me.” 

Tatong  could  bear  no  more.  She  crept  out 
of  the  house  and  to  the  mulberry  tree,  there  to 
relieve  her  overcharged  heart  in  a flood  of  tears. 
Must  this  cruel  thing  be  ? Did  no  one  care  ? 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  157 

With  a rush  of  remembrance  came  thoughts  of 
Mr.  Ko,  the  kind,  the  gentle  one,  of  the  white 
hrothei’,  and  of  Ivitze.  Why  had  not  she  turned 
to  them  before?  groping  as  she  had  been  for 
some  ray  of  hope  that  promised  help.  TV  ould 
not  they  of  all  others  be  the  ones  to  assist  her 
now  ? If  any  hand  were  outstretched  to  succor, 
would  it  not  be  one  of  these  gentle  ones  ? 
Vividly  now  she  remembered  the  words,  the 
manner  of  Mr.  Ko  when  speaking  of  the  return 
of  Mr.  Hi,  and  the  probability  of  his  disposing 
of  the  little  slave.  Had  not  the  very  thing  come 
to  pass  about  which  Mr.  Ko  had  enquired  ? She 
was  for  sale.  Would  he  not  buy  ? The  pos- 
sibility that  he  might  so  overcame  her  that  she 
got  up,  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  Oh ! what 
joy  it  would  be  to  belong  to  him ! She  would 
not  mind  being  a slave  then,  for  he  would  be  so 
kind,  so  gentle  a master.  Even  servitude  is  not 
hard  to  bear  when  love  is  ruler. 

A sudden  resolve  came  to  her,  so  sudden,  so 
great,  that  she  sank  again  to  the  ground  over- 
come by  it.  She  would  go  in  search  of  the  place 
where  the  white  brother  lived,  where  he,  the 
kind  one,  was  even  then  suffering,  it  was  true, 
but  he  surely  would  receive  her.  Yes,  she  would 
go  at  once.  She  would  fly  from  the  yard  and 
along  the  street  as  fast  as  her  feet  would  bear 


158 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


her.  But  even  as  she  was  getting  up  to  carry 
into  effect  this  resolve  a hand  was  placed  upon 
her  clothing;  it  tugged  at  her  skirt,  it  pulled  her 
hack,  while  a thin,  piping,  hut  authoritative 
voice  commanded  her, 

“ To-tak ! to-takf  to-talc!” 

It  was  Kom.  He  had  come  to  he  put  to  sleep, 
for,  in  his  estimation,  always,  loyal,  no  one 
could  do  it  in  so  satisfactory  a manner  as  Ta- 
tong. 

Tatong’s  first  impulse  was  to  push  him  away, 
to  say  to  him  that  she  could  not  do  as  he  wanted. 
There  was  an  angry  feeling  in  her  heart  that  he 
should  have  come  at  this  very  moment,  just  as 
she  was  on  the  point  of  getting  safely  away. 
For,  of  course,  now  she  would  have  to  wait  until 
she  got  rid  of  him.  Should  she  attempt  to  go 
into  the  street  while  he  stood  there,  he  would  be 
sure  to  call  after  her.  Then  her  departure  would 
be  quickly  discovered.  The  next  moment  she 
was  ashamed  of  her  thoughts.  Her  heart,  too, 
reproached  her.  Though,  in  his  way,  he  had 
been  tyrannical  at  times,  yet  Ivom,  her  baby 
defender,  had  ever  been  loving  and  loyal.  Many 
times  he  had  stood  up  for  her  against  the  highest 
powers  of  the  household.  X o ; she  could  not 
desert  him  now  in  this  cold,  harsh  way.  She 
would  stay  and  put  him  to  sleep  as  he  desired. 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


159 


After  that  she  would  pick  her  chance  and  steal 
forth  into  the  streets.  Mrs.  Mi  was  not  going 
out  to-night.  She  had  heard  her  say  so.  There 
were  too  many  preparations  to  make.  With  a 
sigh  in  her  heart,  hut  a gentle  word  on  her  lips, 
she  took  again  the  sitting  posture  against  the  old 
mulberry  tree  and  held  out  her  hands  to  Ivom. 

lie  cuddled  down  against  her,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  deep  satisfaction,  and  laid  his  sleepy 
head  upon  her  breast.  In  all  the  wide  world 
his  was  the  only  head  that  had  ever  so  nestled 
against  her ; his  hand  the  only  one  that  had  ever 
lingered  with  loving  pressure  upon  her  face.  As 
she  looked  down  upon  him  while  he  lay  asleep 
the  tears  began  to  well  forth  and  to  drop  one  by 
one  upon  his  head.  Until  now  she  had  not  real- 
ized how  hard  it  would  be  to  leave  him,  what  it 
meant  to  give  up  even  his  baby  love,  the  one 
small  crumb  from  the  whole  loaf  of  affection 
that  had  been  denied  her.  But,  whether  or  not 
she  went,  it  meant  separation  from  Ivom,  and 
she  could  not  stay  and  face  that  cruel  thing  that 
was  to  come  on  the  morrow. 

She  got  up  directly  and  went  with  Ivom  into 
the  house.  He  was  sleeping  so  soundly  that 
the  movement  did  not  disturb  him.  She  placed 
him  upon  his  mat,  then  stood  looking  at  him. 
Had  she  known  what  it  was  to  kiss,  her  lips 


1G0 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


would  have  been  pressed  to  his.  But  nothing 
like  this  is  in  the  life  of  Koreans,  whether  loved 
or  not.  They  know  naught  of  kissing,  of  any 
demonstrative  way  in  which  to  show  affection. 
It  is  the  eyes  that  must  speak,  the  heart  that 
must  feel,  without  the  corresponding  movement 
of  lips  or  hand.  But,  urged  by  some  unaccount- 
able impulse,  Tatong  stooped,  and,  clasping 
Korn’s  chubby  little  hand  with  its  dirty,  grimy 
fingers,  pressed  it  against  her  forehead,  then  to 
her  cheek. 

Mrs.  Xi  and  Chansa  were  in  another  part  of 
the  room,  but  they  did  not  notice  her.  Indeed, 
they  could  not  well  have  seen  her  had  they 
looked,  as  the  corner  in  which  she  had  placed 
the  sleeping  Korn  was  in  a dim  light. 

As  she  was  going  out  Mrs.  Xi  called  to  her 
sharply, 

“Have  you  done  all  you  were  told  to  do  for 
the  evening  ?” 

“Yes,”  she  replied. 

“Well,  go  to  the  shop  not  far  away  and  bring 
some  matches.  Hurry  now,  or  the  bell  will 
ring,  and  it  will  he  closed.” 

Tatong  almost  exclaimed  aloud  in  her  surprise 
and  joy.  Here  was  the  very  thing  she  wanted ! 

She  waited  only  long  enough  to  get  the  “cash” 
Mrs.  Xi  held  out,  then  hurried  from  the  room. 


161 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

Once  outside,  her  feet  fairly  flew,  but  not  in  the 
direction  of  the  shop.  In  truth,  it  was  in  that 
almost  directly  away  from  it.  She  was  not  sure 
that  she  knew  just  how  to  go  to  reach  the  home 
of  the  white  brother.  She  had  told  Mr.  Ivo  when 
he  had  given  her  the  directions,  that  she  thought 
she  might  find  it.  She  had  intended  to  ask 
many  questions  of  those  she  met. 

Tatong  had  gone  hut  a short  distance  when  she 
became  aware  that  there  were  footsteps  behind 
her.  She  turned,  her  heart  beginning  to  heat 
fast  in  apprehension.  Could  it  be  that  her  inten- 
tion had  been  divined  and  some  one  was  follow- 
ing her?  It  might  be  Mrs.  Hi  herself.  At  the 
bare  thought  Tatong  turned  cold  from  head 
to  foot. 

But  she  could  see  no  one.  She  turned  and 
started  on  again,  and  again  she  heard  the  foot- 
steps. Surely  it  was  some  one  behind  her.  There 
were  deep  shadows  along  the  street  at  this  point, 
so  she  could  not  see  very  plainly.  If  some  one 
were  following  her,  then  she  felt  that  one  was 
purposely  trying  to  keep  out  of  sight.  This  was 
very  strange,  as,  had  it  been  Chansa  or  Mrs.  Hi, 
she  surely  would  have  revealed  herself,  especially 
if  she  had  come  to  summon  the  little  slave  back. 

Tatong  strained  her  eyes  through  the  shadows. 
Ah,  now  she  felt  sure  she  saw  something  moving. 


1G2 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


But  how  near  tlie  ground  it  was ! Just  at  this 
moment  the  moon  that  had  been  partly  behind  a 
cloud  came  out  again.  A great,  broad  ray  of  it 
shone  down  between  the  huts.  An  exclamation 
came  from  Tatong,  then  a little  cry  not  so  much 
of  astonishment  as  of  dismay. 

“Kijun!  Kijun !” 

Yes,  the  moon  had  plainly  revealed  the  pur- 
suer. It  was  Kijun ! 

“Oh ! you  naughty  dog ! Did  you  not  know 
better  than  to  come  with  me  now  ? What  am  I to 
do  about  it  ?”  she  continued,  and  glancing 
around  in  despair.  “You  hear  me,  Kijun,  I 
know  not  what  to  do  with  you,  for  I cannot  go 
back.  Ko.  I cannot  go  back !” 

Kijun  seated  himself  upon  his  taggy  little 
haunches  and  looked  at  her  complacently. 

“0  Kijun,  listen  to  me,  Kijun ! I cannot  go 
back,  but  you  must ; you,  my  dog,  you  must.” 

“I  will  not,”  said  Kijun’s  expression  as  plain 
as  plain  could  be. 

In  her  despair  Tatong  caught  him,  though  not 
roughly,  and  turned  his  shaggy  little  body  about. 

“Now,  Kijun,”  she  said  persuasively,  “go 
home,  my  doggie,  go  home  !” 

Tor  response  Kijun  whirled  himself  as  reso- 
lutely back  again,  and  stood,  his  nose  pointing 
straight  towards  her,  every  defiant  little  tag  in 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  1G3 

his  tousled  coat  declaring  vigorously,  “This  is 
the  way  I am  going  and  no  other.” 

“Oh,  Kijun,  can’t  I convince  you  that  you 
must  not  follow  me  ? For  I am  not  going  back 
there  any  more,”  indicating  the  direction  they 
had  come,  “no,  never  any  more,  you  hear  me, 
Kijun  ?” 

Yes,  Kijun  heard,  hut  it  did  not  suit  him  to 
pay  heed.  Instead,  his  dog  heart,  as  loyal  as 
any  that  ever  heat  under  canine  ribs,  or  human 
ones,  for  that  matter,  elected  to  go  with  her  and 
no  where  else.  Yes,  wherever  her  footsteps  were 
turning  this  night,  there  Kijun’s  would  follow. 
If  they  led  to  a place  where  there  were  good 
things  and  pleasant  things,  straw  for  a bed  and 
ribs  of  beef  to  eat  with  rice  cake,  so  much  the 
better ; if,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  to  no  pleas- 
ant place  and  there  were  hard  things,  even  dan- 
gers to  face,  it  was  all  right,  he  would  still  fol- 
low. It  was  enough  to  know  that  he  wTas  with 
her,  and,  since  to  be  with  her  was  the  chief  thing 
he  desired  in  life,  there  was  therefore  nothing 
more  to  be  considered. 

He  placed  himself  again  upon  his  haunches, 
and  was  once  more  looking  at  her,  conceit,  love, 
loyalty,  determination,  each  alternating  in  the 
expression  of  his  eyes. 

She  stooped  down  and  caressed  him,  the  very 


164 


/ 

Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

thing  he  had  felt  she  would  do  ere  the  contest 
ended.  He  moved  his  tail  vigorously,  both  in 
victory  and  in  appreciation. 

“Kijun,  dear  dog ! Ah,  then  you  may  come, 
since  it  is  that  you  will  not  go  hack.  Surely, 
those  who  take  me  will  take  you,  too.  At  least, 
we  will  go  on  together  so  long  as  we  can,  Kijun.” 

He  got  i;p,  and  now  his  small  bedraggled 
plume  waved  proudly,  his  little  eyes  gleamed 
from  between  the  tufts  of  wool.  Then,  turning, 
he  followed  her  with  the  soft  pit-a-pat  of  cush- 
ioned feet.  And  from  that  time  until  his  sum- 
mons to  the  land  where  I am  sure  all  good  dogs 
go,  especially  the  loyal  ones,  he  never  left  her 
again. 

Tatong  hurried  onward.  The  bell  had  al- 
ready sounded,  and  the  street  was  beginning  to 
fill  with  women  and  girls.  She  had  an  idea  as 
to  the  direction  in  which  the  mission  house  lay, 
hut  not  as  to  the  exact  locality.  As  has  been 
said,  she  hoped  to  find  this  through  asking  ques- 
tions. But  there  was  one  thing  on  which  Ta- 
tong had  not  counted  when  taking  the  resolve  to 
make  her  search  at  night.  She  would  be  likely 
to  meet  only  women  and  girls,  and  they  would  be 
the  very  poorest  ones  from  whom  to  get  informa- 
tion of  the  kind  desired.  For  they  stayed  shut 
up  within  the  houses  so  much  they  were  not 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


165 


likely  to  know  anything-  of  that  which  she  de- 
sired, or,  at  least,  very  little  of  it.  But  maybe 
she  might  come  upon  one  of  those  who  went  to 
the  meetings  at  the  Marble  Pagoda.  She  knew 
there  were  only  a few  of  those,  a mere  drop  in 
the  great  sea  of  womankind  then  surging 
through  the  streets  of  Seoul.  But  perhaps  some- 
where, at  some  turning,  she  would  meet  one  of 
these  women.  She  felt  sure  she  would  know 
them  whenever  she  had  a clear  look  into  their 
faces. 

But  not  a person  did  she  see  that  she  knew, 
man,  woman,  or  child.  The  few  of  whom  she 
ventured  to  ask  questions  either  gave  her  a sharp 
answer,  declaring  they  knew  nothing  about  it, 
or  else  only  stared  at  her  and  passed  on. 

In  despair  she  wandered  from  street  to  street. 
She  felt  sure  that  she  had  understood  Mr.  Ko’s 
directions  well  enough  to  at  least  get  within  the 
neighborhood  of  the  mission  house,  and,  if  poor 
Tatong  had  only  known  it,  she  was  once  or  twice 
very  close  to  it.  But  there  was  no  good  fairy  to 
whisper  to  her  just  where  it  stood,  no  help  at 
hand  to  guide  her  steps. 

It  was  now  very  late.  The  nine  o’clock  bell, 
the  coming  out  hell,  had  rung  more  than  two 
hours  ago,  and  most  of  the  women  and  girls  were 
now  turning  their  steps  in  the  direction  of  home. 


166 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


Some  had  already  gone.  Poor  Tatong  wandered 
on  from  street  to  street,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 
She  conld  not  return  to  Mr.  Ni’s.  No,  she 
would  rather  drop  down  in  the  streets  and  die 
than  to  do  that.  Better  that  she  did  die  than  to 
go  hack  to  that  cruel  place ; yea,  that  she  en- 
dured death  many  times,  if  that  could  he,  than 
that  she  went  hack  to  become  the  slave  of  that 
terrible  old  creature  to  whom  they  would  sell 
her  on  the  morrow. 

Foot  for  foot,  Kijun,  the  faithful,  followed 
her.  He  never  lost  sight  of  her  at  any  time. 
If,  in  the  press  of  the  crowd,  some  one  came  be- 
tween them,  only  for  a moment  did  Kijun  per- 
mit such  a state  of  affairs  to  exist.  With  a swift 
rush  and  a determined  set  of  the  plume  waving 
out  behind,  he  passed  all  intervening  objects  and 
rejoined  her.  It  was  comfort  to  Tatong  to  know 
that  close  beside  her  walked  this  loyal,  four- 
footed,  little  companion ; that  in  all  that  great 
city  she  was  not  entirely  alone ; that  there  was  a 
pair  of  eyes  that  kept  watch  with  her ; four  little 
feet  that  would  follow  to  the  last  step  of  the 
journey,  and  a steadfast  heart  that  would  never 
fail  her. 

Suddenly  Tatong  thought  of  the  Marble  Pa- 
goda. Almost  as  an  inspiration  it  came  to  her. 
Yes,  she  would  go  there,  and  even  if  she  could  not 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  167 

get  in,  she  would  crouch  down  close  beside  it  and 
there  spend  the  night.  She  did  not  feel  so  very 
much  afraid,  for  were  not  the  stars  shining,  and 
did  she  not  have  Kijun  ? What  a warmth  there 
was  in  her  heart  as  she  thought  of  that ! 

The  streets  were  by  this  time  almost  deserted. 
Only  here  and  there  could  she  see  a small  group 
of  women  homeward  hound.  She  came  at  last 
to  the  street  just  off  which  the  Warble  Pagoda 
stood.  She  felt  sure  that  wherever  she  should 
go  she  could  never  fail  to  find  this  place  that,  as 
dark  and  gloomy  as  it  looked,  had  become  so 
dear.  There  was  no  noise  and  no  light.  She 
had  known  before  she  came  that  the  meetings 
were  not  being  held  now,  for,  had  she  not  known 
this,  she  would  have  come  here  at  once  instead 
of  going  in  search  of  the  house  of  the  white 
brother.  But  Kitze  had  told  her  as  she  was 
parting  from  him  that  day  in  the  old  building 
that,  on  account  of  the  accident  to  his  father, 
the  meetings  would  have  to  stop  for  a while. 
The  white  brother  did  not  yet  know  the  language 
of  the  people  well  enough  to  hold  them  by  him- 
self. So  she  had  come  to  the  place,  finding  it, 
as  she  expected,  desolate  and  deserted.  But 
still,  as  lonely  and  gloomy  as  it  was,  she  felt 
that  there  was  no  place  throughout  that  great 
city,  except  the  one  for  which  she  had  been  hunt- 


168 


T atone],  the  Little  Slave. 


ing,  where  she  -would  rather  spend  the  night. 
The  air  was  chill,  but,  luckily,  not  cold,  and  Ta- 
tong  had  been  careful  enough  to  secure  an  extra 
garment  ere  she  came  from  the  house.  She 
would  wrap  this  about  her  and  cuddle  down  with 
Jxijun.  They  could  surely  keep  each  other 
warm  enough. 

The  thought  came  to  her  that  she  would  try 
the  door  anyhow.  To  her  joy  she  found  that  she 
could  open  it.  iSTow  there  was  no  need  to  spend 
the  night  outside.  But  all  looked  so  gloomy 
within  that  Tatong’s  heart  failed  her,  and  she 
could  not  go  on  to  the  inner  chamber.  She  de- 
cided that  she  would  leave  the  door  ajar  and 
cuddle  down  there  near  to  it,  where  she  could 
still  see  the  stars  as  they  twinkled  through  the 
opening. 

Truly  has  it  been  said  that  “he  is  not  alone 
who  is  accompanied  by  his  thoughts.”  So  many 
thoughts  came  to  travel  with  Tatong  at  this  mo- 
ment that  they  gave  her  no  time  to  think  of  her 
loneliness,  of  the  dreariness  of  her  surroundings. 
She  went  back  to  the  first  time  she  had  met  the 
kind  stranger ; to  the  day  on  which  his  gentleness 
and  kindness,  the  unusual  feeling  he  had  shown, 
had  struck  her  with  astonishment,  then  filled  her 
heart  with  a gratitude,  a devotion  no  words  could 
express.  She  felt  it  there  now,  heating  and  surg- 


169 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

ing  as  though  of  its  very  force  it  must  beat  its 
way  out.  She  recalled  his  looks,  his  words,  his 
tones  5 all  that  he  had  told  her  that  had  made  life 
so  different,  that  had  sent  a hope  to  dwell  in  her 
heart  that  every  now  and  then  made  things  so 
beautiful  that  for  a time  she  forgot  the  dark- 
ness, the  sorrow  of  her  surroundings. 

She  recalled  the  night  in  the  little  chamber 
beyond.  What  beautiful  things  had  been  told 
her  then,  and  yet  how  sad,  too,  she  had  been ! 
Oh  ! what  sorrow  had  come  to  her  heart  when  it 
seemed  that  Jesus,  the  kind,  the  gentle,  the  ten- 
der One  was  dead ! lie  who  alone  could  speak 
to  God,  the  Father,  for  her,  who  could  entreat 
him  to  pity,  to  love  the  poor  little  slave.  But 
Jesus  was  not  dead.  Mr.  Ko  had  assured  her 
he  was  not.  He  had  done  that  wonderful  thing 
of  bringing  himself  hack  from  the  dead.  He 
was  now  in  heaven  with  God,  the  I ather,  and 
Mr.  Ko  had  promised  that  he  would  tell  her  how 
she  might  send  a message  to  this  loving  Jesus, 
who  would  beg  God,  the  Father,  for  her.  But 
suppose  she  never  saw  Mr.  Ko  again  ? Jlie 
thought  was  too  dreadful  to  entertain  for  a mo- 
ment. It  was  true  that  she  had  not  succeeded 
in  finding  him,  and  he  was  sick  and  might  not 
come  to  the  Pagoda  again  in  a long,  long  time. 
What  should  she  do  ? "\\  ho  was  there  to  tell  her 
where  she  might  find  him  ? 


170 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


As  she  gazed  at  the  stars  within,  shining  in 
the  great  dark  vault,  a sudden  resolution  came 
to  her.  In  the  morning  early,  as  soon  as  the 
gate  was  open,  she  would  go  out  along  the  South 
road,  she  would  hunt  for  Yakta.  Surely  she  re- 
membered enough  of  what  had  been  told  her 
about  the  way  to  find  it  by  asking  some  ques- 
tions. It  would  not  he  all  women  then  she 
would  meet.  There  would  he  men,  some  of 
whom  would  surely  answer  her.  Besides,  the 
women  would  not  he  like  the  women  of  the  city. 
They  would  be  country  women,  and  they  would 
know. 

Yes,  Yakta  was  so  strong  and  good,  so  kind  of 
heart  though  rough  of  manner.  And  Mokpo,  the 
big,  the  broad-hacked,  what  could  not  he  do? 
Surely  Yakta  and  klokpo  together  could  lead  her 
to  the  house  of  the  white  brother.  She  would 
tell  Yakta  all  that  had  been  told  her  of  how  to 
get  to  it.  Yes,  if  any  one  could  find  it,  it  was 
Yakta;  Yakta,  with  Yokpo’s  help.  She  would 
go  then  to  Yakta;  she  would  start  just  as  soon 
as  the  first  stroke  of  the  morning  bell  said  the 
gate  might  he  opened. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


On  the  South  Road. 

ATOHG  had  intended  rising  early  the  fol- 


lowing morning.  But,  alas,  for  this  resolu- 
tion ! There  is  no  telling  how  long  she  would  have 
slept  had  she  not  been  awakened  by  Kijun’ s pull- 
ing at  her  robe.  The  little  dog  had  had  his  eyes 
wide  open  for  some  time.  For  a half  hour  or 
more  he  had  sat  patiently  watching  Tatong  as 
she  .slept.  Why  did  she  not  open  her  eyes  and 
look  at  him?  Why  was  she  sleeping  so  long? 
W as  there  not  something  wrong  ? Surely  there 
was.  He  had  never,  never  known  Tatong  to 
sleep  so  late  before.  She  was  always  up  and  at 
some  task  as  soon  as  the  gray  light  came  creeping 
over  the  hills.  This  had  now  happened  some 
time  ago,  and  yet,  here  she  was  still  asleep.  And 
in  a strange  place  too!  Kijun  could  endure  it 
no  longer.  He  leaned  nearer,  caught  her  robe 
between  his  teeth,  and  began  to  pull ; at  first 
gently,  then  harder,  harder. 

Tatong  awakened  with  a start.  At  first  she 
could  not  realize  where  she  was.  Only  Kijun 
was  familiar.  Then  it  all  came  back  to  her  in  a 


171 


172 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


rush  of  remembrance,  the  dreadful  thing  that 
had  threatened  her,  the  stealing  away  from  Mr. 
Hi’s,  the  wandering  in  the  streets,  the  night  in 
the  Pagoda — yes,  it  all  stood  out  clearly  now  in 
her  mind.  But  why  had  Kijun  pulled  her  robe 
in  that  way  ? 

“Kijun,  good  dog,  what  is  it  ?”  she  said. 

For  answer  he  sat  upon  his  haunches,  looked 
at  her  wistfully  and  whined. 

“Ah,  now  I see ! You  want  to  go.  Yes,  Ki- 
jun, you  are  wiser  than  I;  for  the  morning  has 
come,  and  I did  not  know  it.  Oh ! we  ought  to 
have  been  on  our  way  to  the  gate  ere  this  ! Good 
Kijun,  for  waking  me.” 

Kijun  let  his  front  paws  drop,  and  stood  upon 
his  fox;r  feet  wagging  his  tail.  If  she  praised 
him  that  was  enough. 

“O  Kijun !”  she  continued,  “why  didn’t  you 
do  it  sooner  ? How  much  time  I have  wasted  !” 

Even  as  she  spoke  there  came  the  deep,  heavy 
boom  of  the  hell. 

She  started  up  with  a sharp  exclamation. 

“Oh ! right  now  the  gates  are  opening,  and  the 
people  will  rush  for  them,  and  for  hours  now  the 
crowds  may  he  so  great  we  can  not  well  get  by 
them.  Come,  Kijun,  let  us  go,  my  dog;  and  we 
must  hurry  as  fast  as  foot  will  carry  us.” 

She  gained  her  feet,  brushed  the  straw  from 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  173 

her  robe,  and  followed  by  Kijun,  went  hastily 
away. 

The  narrow  streets  were  beginning  to  fill. 
From  almost  every  hut  there  were  forms  start- 
ing up,  either  to  stand  in  the  small  space  under 
(he  eaves  and  gape  at  the  passers-by,  or  else  to 
join  the  throng  in  the  streets. 

As  Tatong  hastened  on  she  suddenly  became 
aware  of  some  very  strange  conduct  on  the  part 
of  Kijun.  The  little  dog,  who  had  been  a pace 
or  two  ahead,  now  gave  a whine  and  darted 
back,  trying  to  conceal  himself  between  her  feet, 
almost  upsetting  her  as  he  did  so. 

“What  ails  you,  my  dog  ?”  she  asked,  bending 
over  him.  “It  is  something  he  has  seen,”  she 
added.  Then  some  impulse  caused  her  to  raise 
her  head  and  glance  about  her.  As  she  did  so 
she  came  near  uttering  a cry  as  Ki  jun  had  done. 
For  there,  just  across  the  street,  not  more  than 
five  or  six  paces  away,  was  Mr.  Yin,  the  oldest 
son  of  Mr.  Ki,  and  with  him  Dong.  They  had 
stopped  to  talk  to  one  of  the  men  in  front  of  a 
hut.  As  yet  they  had  not  seen  her,  but  even  as 
her  eyes  fell  upon  them,  Mr.  Yin  was  turning 
his  head  to  glance  across  the  street. 

“Oh ! he  will  see  me !”  cried  poor  Tatong, 
“and  I shall  be  lost ! What  shall  I do  ?” 

It  seemed  that  her  knees  could  support  her  no 
longer.  In  her  fright  she  lost  all  control  of 


174  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

them,  and  in  a moment  had  dropped  to  the 
ground.  Fortunate  it  was,  since  the  crowd  that 
quickly  closed  about  her  completely  shut  her 
from  view.  One  or  two  there  were  who  gave 
her  a brutal  kick  in  passing,  ordering  her  to  get 
out  of  the  way.  Close  beside  her  Kijun  kept, 
his  body  as  fully  buried  in  her  robe  as  he  could 
get  it.  Ivijun,  too,  had  the  memory  of  only 
harsh  words  and  harsher  blows  from  the  two 
across  the  street. 

After  a moment  or  so  Tatong  managed  to  drag 
herself  between  two  of  the  huts.  When,  later, 
she  raised  herself  cautiously  and  looked  across 
the  street  Mr.  Yin  and  Dong  had  disappeared. 
Oh  ! how  thankful  she  was  that  they  had  not  dis- 
covered her ! They  were  hunting  her,  she  felt 
sure,  and  so  they  were.  Great  would  have  been 
their  rage  had  they  known  how  near  they  had 
come  to  her  and  yet  missed  her.  They  went 
home  in  rage  enough  anyhow,  after  hunting  her 
in  vain  for  nearly  all  the  morning. 

Tatong  hurried  along,  her  heart  beating  loudly. 
She  did  not  know  at  what  moment  she  might 
again  come  upon  her  enemies.  She  kept  as  close 
against  the  houses  as  she  could,  and  always  her 
eyes  were  keenly  watching. 

It  was  as  she  had  feared.  Great  crowds  were 
at  the  gate.  How  they  jostled  one  another  and 


175 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

what  a noise  they  made ! There  were  all  sorts 
and  conditions  of  people,  the  rich,  the  poor,  the 
sick,  the  well ; men,  women  and  children.  There 
were  boys  in  their  short  girdled  coats,  with  their 
hair  parted  in  the  middle  and  hanging  down 
their  backs;  married  men  with  theirs  drawn 
into  a topknot,  surmounted  by  a skull-cap  of 
horse  hair,  and  attired  in  long,  full  coats,  with 
great  straw  hats  and  padded  socks.  Soldiers, 
magistrates,  drummers,  servants,  police  officers 
and  peddlers,  all  jostled  each  other  in  the  hurry 
to  get  by. 

Tatong  made  two  or  three  brave  attempts  to 
pass  the  gate,  but  failed.  Tears  filled  her  eyes 
and  her  heart  began  to  throb  with  despair.  Oh  ! 
what  if  she  did  not  get  by  until  Mr.  Yin  and 
Dong  came  to  find  her  \ They  would  surely  look 
for  her  at  the  gates ; that  is,  if  they  thought  she 
had  run  away. 

“Oh ! I must  try  again !”  said  Tatong,  “even 
if  I get  hurt.” 

She  watched  her  opportunity,  made  a spring 
forward,  and  would  doubtless  have  passed 
through  of  herself,  after  some  struggling,  had  it 
not  been  for  a vicious  pony  that  at  that  moment 
swerved  from  his  course  and  plunged  directly 
toward  her.  Warning  cries  came  from  the  rider 
and  from  those  around,  yet  so  intent  was  she  on 


176 


Tatoncj,  the  Little  Slave. 


making  her  escape,  Tatong  did  not  heed.  But 
Kijun  did,  and  quick  as  a flask  of  light  he  sprang 
toward  the  pony,  leaped  up,  and  seized  him  by 
the  nose.  The  pony  gaye  a squeal  of  pain  and 
reared  back,  almost  unseating  his  rider  and 
trampling  upon  those  who  were  near.  But  it 
gave  Tatong  the  opening  she  desired,  and  she 
sprang  away,  Kijun  at  her  heels.  The  little  dog 
was  none  too  soon,  for  there  were  those  who, 
urged  by  the  pony’s  rider,  had  reached  out  to 
strike  him  down. 

Once  out  the  gate  and  safely  away  from  the 
direct  track  of  the  passing  throng,  Tatong  fell 
down  all  in  a heap  and  drew  Kijun  to  her  robe. 

“Oh ! you  good,  braye  dog !”  she  said,  “but  how 
could  you  liaye  done  it,  Kijun  ? There  were 
those  ready  to  kill  you  could  they  liaye  caught 
you.” 

Kijun  gazed  at  her  with  a look  which  said 
plainly : 

“But  they  didn’t  do  it,  mistress,  and  so  that 
ends  it.” 

The  scene  without  the  gate  was  almost  as 
bustling  as  that  within,  for  various  of  the  ped- 
dlers had  erected  temporary  booths,  and  were 
loudly  calling  attention  to  their  wares,  which 
consisted  of  hits  of  silk  fabric,  gauzes,  girdle 
cords,  straw  shoes,  bamboo  hats,  cotton  goods, 


TRANSPORTATION  IN  KOREA. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


1 77 


combs,  glass  beads,  pipes,  etc.  Various  custo- 
mers were  pausing  to  buy,  some  with  servants 
bearing  great  strings  of  “cash,”  others  having 
only  a scant  supply  strung  on  a twisted  wisp  of 
straw  clasped  within  their  own  hands. 

Tatong  looked  at  the  many  tempting  things, 
but  it  was  not  to  covet  any  of  them  or  to  sigh  be- 
cause she  could  not  buy  them.  The  little  slave 
was  thinking  more  of  the  kind  ones  she  sought, 
of  the  gentle  words  she  was  longing  to  hear,  of 
the  welcome  that  would  surely  be  given  when 
once  she  had  found  Xakta,  and  by  her  had  been 
led  to  the  house  where  the  kind  stranger  and  the 
white  brother  had  said  there  were  peace  and  joy 
and  happiness  for  all  who  came.  Oh ! of  how 
much  more  value  were  these  than  anything  she 
now  saw ! To  the  hungry  heart  and  starving  soul 
of  the  little  slave  the  wealth  of  all  these  booths 
combined  was  nothing  beside  the  warm  glance, 
the  tender  clasp,  the  precious  words  that  would 
be  hers  if  only  she  could  find  this  sweet  place 
where  those  who  knew  and  loved  God,  the 
Father,  dwelt.  It  seemed  to  her  that  there 
would  be  no  more  that  earth  could  give  when 
once  she  had  reached  it. 

The  rose  pink  of  the  ascending  sun  had  long 
since  died  away,  and  there  was  now  the  full  gol- 
den light  against  the  sky  of  bright,  steely  blue. 


178 


Tatong,  the  Little  Stave. 


Tatong  had  never  realized  before  liow  beautiful 
the  sky  could  he.  She  had  seldom  seen  it  except 
within  the  city  walls,  and  there  it  was  obscured 
by  the  smoke  which  it  seemed  to  her  was  nearly 
always  ascending.  Strange  thoughts  stirred 
within  her  heart  as  she  went  along.  Up  there 
she  knew  God,  the  Father,  dwelt;  yes,  far  be- 
yond this  bine  sky,  in  a place  many  more  times 
as  beautiful.  Oh ! if  she  might  only  see  it ! if 
she  might  really  go  to  him  as  the  kind  ones  had 
said  she  could  and  would  if  she  tried  to  do  what 
he  would  have  her  do.  Were  they  not  to  tell  her, 
these  kind,  true  ones,  how  to  love  and  serve  him 
here  so  that  she  might  go  to  him  when  he  was 
ready  for  her  to  come  ? Those  were  the  very 
words  of  the  promise.  What  music  of  expec- 
tancy they  now  awakened ! 

To  the  right  the  river  glistened  in  the  sun. 
On  it  were  several  rafts  and  junks,  the  most  of 
them  laden  with  salt.  Along  the  river  lay  the 
valleys,  and  above  them  towered  the  stately  hills, 
flecked  here  and  there  with  the  rich  coloring  of 
the  azaleas.  Butterflies  and  dragon-flies  flitted 
through  the  air,  numerous  ducks  and  geese  hov- 
ered along  the  edge  of  the  river,  now  alighting 
and  skimming  the  waves  for  a few  moments, 
then  dipping  wings  to  fly  away.  Small  flocks  of 
cranes  waded  in  and  out  the  shallow  places 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  179 

hunting  for  such  fish  as  they  could  reach  and 
seize.  Just  where  the  sun’s  rays  fell  upon  him, 
lighting  up  his  brilliant  plumage,  a magnificent 
flamingo  stood  with  head  poised  ready  to  seize 
an  unwary  frog. 

Suddenly  a bird  sprang  upward  from  a rice 
field,  and  began  soaring  with  light,  graceful 
wing  higher  and  higher  toward  the  sky  of  blue, 
pouring  out  its  song  as  it  went.  So  loud,  so  joy- 
ous was  this  song  it  seemed  as  though  it  must 
burst  the  tiny  throat  of  the  singer. 

“Oh  !”  exclaimed  Tatong,  “he  is  going  straight 
up  there ! He  is  going  beyond  the  blue.  Oh, 
he  is  ! he  is ! Oh,”  stopping  suddenly  and  clasp- 
ing her  hands  together,  “I  feel  it ! I know  it ! 
He  is  going  straight  to  where  God,  the  Father, 

is.  That  is  why  he  sings  so.  His  heart  is  full 
of  the  joy  of  it,  and  he  wants  everybody  to  know 

it. ” 

She  stood  watching  him  eagerly,  wistfully,  all 
her  longing  heart  glowing  within  her  eyes,  till 
the  bird  became  a mere  speck  and  she  could  fol- 
low him  no  more. 

She  had  now  passed  through  much  of  the 
crowd,  but  she  still  met  travellers.  Korea  is  a 
great  country  for  travelling.  The  people  are 
constantly  moving  about  for  one  reason  or  an- 
other, visiting  the  tombs  of  ancestors,  buying, 


ISO 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


selling,  making  social  calls,  and  tlie  like.  Some 
stared  at  her,  others  passed  her  by  without  a 
word  ; one  or  two  frightened  her  by  stopping  her 
to  ask  her  business.  She  almost  broke  down  as 
she  replied.  What  if  they  should  take  her  back 
to  Mr.  ISTi’s.  Of  each  of  these  she  had  asked  the 
same  question,  could  they  tell  her  where  Xakta 
lived;  Xakta  who  owned  the  great  ox,  Mokpo  ? 
Either  silence  or  jeers  had  been  the  reply  she 
had  so  far  received. 

As  she  walked  on,  her  head  down,  her  thoughts 
busy,  her  heart  sore  from  the  rebuffs  she  had  re- 
ceived, she  was  suddenly  aroused  by  a great 
noise  in  the  path  before  her.  She  looked  to  see 
coming  toward  her,  and  not  far  away,  a small 
herd  of  oxen  laden  with  fire-wood,  and  urged 
along  by  the  noisy  shouts  of  their  drivers.  Ta- 
tong’s  heart  almost  stood  still.  Oh  ! suppose  that 
Mokpo  was  among  them  ? But  the  next  moment 
she  felt  that  this  could  not  be.  Mokpo  would 
never  he  driven  like  this,  neither  would  Xakta 
let  him  be.  Xo,  indeed,  blows  and  shouts  were 
not  for  Mokpo.  They  might  he  for  a poor  slave 
like  herself,  hut  not  for  great,  splendid  Mokpo. 
Oh ! no. 

The  oxen  came  on  slowly,  despite  the  cries  and 
proddings  of  the  boys  who  drove  them.  Tatong 
stood  aside  to  let  them  pass.  All  the  time  her 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  181 

eyes  were  watching  them  closely,  though  she  had 
fully  decided  Mokpo  could  not  he  among  them. 
Yet,  as  these  boys  drove  oxen,  too,  they  might 
know  Xakta.  She  would  at  least  venture  to  ask 
them.  They  only  hooted  at  her  in  reply,  and 
more  than  one  switched  at  her  with  his  bamboo 
cane.  This  treatment  Kijun  at  once  resented. 
He  sprang  bravely  to  snap  at  the  legs  of  the 
foremost  offender.  He  would  surely  have  been 
badly  hurt  had  not  Tatong  succeeded  in  getting 
him  away. 

The  sun  had  now  grown  very  hot.  Tatong 
was  glad  when  the  path  lay  where  there  was 
shade.  Xow  and  then  she  crossed  a small  stream, 
its  limpid  waters  gurgling  along  over  the  stones 
to  join  the  river.  On  the  banks  beautiful  lilies 
grew  and  many  smaller  yet  vivid  wild  flowers. 
But  Tatong  did  not  stop  to  gather  any.  They 
would  only  wilt  before  the  day  was  over,  she  knew, 
and  she  could  not  bear  to  break  them  from  the 
stem  only  to  die  in  this  way.  But  she  bent  down 
more  than  once  and  pressed  her  face  against 
them,  murmuring  words  that  she  felt  sure  they 
understood. 

She  came  at  length  to  a place  where  men  were 
beating  down  hemp,  so  as  to  prepare  the  sack- 
cloth with  which  Korean  mourners  clothe  them- 
selves. At  the  bottom  of  a pit  they  had  placed 


182 


Taiong,  the  Little  Slave. 


some  large  stones,  which  were  being  heated  by 
means  of  a rough  oven  on  the  outside.  The 
hemp  was  pressed  down  in  bundles  on  these 
stones,  and  all  among  it  large  stakes  were  driven. 
Then  piles  of  coarse  grass  were  laid  over  the 
hemp,  and  earth  over  the  grass.  After  this  the 
beating  took  place,  between  the  stakes,  and  just 
as  hard  as  the  men  could  lay  it  on.  When  they 
were  through  they  would  pull  up  the  stakes  and 
poiir  water  into  the  holes.  This  water,  falling- 
on  the  hot  stones,  would  produce  a dense  steam, 
which  would  cause  the  fibres  of  the  hemp  to  fall 
apart.  In  this  way  the  threads  for  making  the 
sack-cloth  were  obtained. 

As  Tatong  came  opposite  the  men  were  en- 
gaged in  pounding  away  at  the  mass  of  straw, 
hemp,  and  earth.  She  paused  to  speak  to  them,, 
lost  her  courage,  started  on,  then  paused  again. 
One  of  the  men  noted  it.  lie  called  out  to  her, 
hut  not  unkindly, 

“Is  there  anything  you  want,  girl  ?” 

“Yes,”  she  replied,  gaining  her  courage  again, 
“will  you  not  tell  me  where  Hakta  lives,  Hakta 
who  drives  the  great  ox,  Mokpo,  with  the  piles 
of  brushwood  on  him  ? She  comes  along  this 
road  to  market,  Oh  ! so  often  !” 

“Idiot !”  said  the  other  man,  now  looking  up 
to  give  her  a surly  glance.  “What  do  you  sup- 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  183 

pose  we  know  of  a woman  and  an  ox  who  take 
this  road  to  market  when  there  are  hundreds 
who  go  by  every  day  ?” 

“What  sort  of  woman  is  she,  and  what’s  the 
color  of  the  ox  ?”  asked  the  first  man  again,  leav- 
ing his  work  to  come  nearer  Tatong. 

The  little  slave  told  him  as  clearly  as  she 
could. 

“Why,”  he  cried  suddenly,  “I  do  believe  that 
is  old  Kimri’s  daughter !” 

“Oh ! yes,  yes !”  exclaimed  Tatong,  excitedly, 
“that  is  it ! That  is  the  old  one’s  name !” 

“Well,  if  you  are  going  there,”  the  man  ad- 
vised kindly,  “you  had  better  not.  The  old  one 
is  a terror.  She’ll  soon  drive  the  life  out  of  a 
young  thing  like  you.” 

“But  it  is  to  Hakta  I am  going,”  replied  Ta- 
tong. “O  Nakta  is  good  and  kind  ! I know  it.  I 
am  sure  of  it.” 

“That  may  be ; hut  the  old  one  rules  every- 
thing. Still,  if  you  want  to  go  on,  I’ll  give  you 
the  way  as  best  I can.” 

He  then  proceeded  to  tell  her,  but  there  were 
so  many  things  to  remember  that  her  heart  com- 
menced to  beat  with  the  fear  that  she  would 
never  keep  them  all.  When  the  man  had  fin- 
ished she  took  leave  of  him,  after  letting  him  see 
her  gratitude  for  his  kindness. 


184 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


Hunger  now  begun  to  pinch  Tatong,  for  she 
had  eaten  nothing  since  the  evening  before. 
She  felt  sure  that  Kijun,  too,  was  hungry,  for 
the  poor  dog  was  moving  with  lagging  steps 
while  he  gazed  wistfully  about. 

“There  is  nothing  here  for  us  to  eat,  Kijun, 
poor  dog!”  she  said,  “but  maybe  after  a while 
we’ll  come  to  some  pines  where  we  can  find 
nuts.” 

Sure  enough,  in  a half  hour  or  so  they  came  to 
a cluster  of  the  pines  that  produced  the  eatable 
nuts.  But  others  had  been  before  them.  After 
close  search  only  a few  could  be  found.  Of  these 
Tatong  offered  a generous  share  to  Kijun.  But 
the  little  dog,  hungry  as  he  was,  did  not  care 
much  for  them.  He  would  far  rather  have 
found  some  of  the  shell-fish  that  stuck  to  the 
rocks  along  the  streams,  for  which  he  had  several 
times  that  morning  sought  industriously,  hut  in 
vain. 

Kot  far  ahead  of  them  there  Avas  a village. 
It  stood  on  the  slopes,  and  the  straw  roofs  of  the 
huts  were  almost  hidden  by  the  little  orchards 
that  surrounded  them.  Tatong  made  up  her 
mind  that  she  would  apply  here  for  food,  hut 
on  approaching  tAvo  or  three  of  the  premises, 
she  saAv  only  rough,  surly-looking  men.  These 
so  frightened  her  that  she  went  on  Avithout 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  185 

speaking.  The  path  led  up  an  incline,  then 
down  again  into  a valley,  where,  under  a small 
clump  of  trees,  she  saw  some  travellers  making 
merry  over  their  meal.  They  had  kindled  a fire, 
and,  from  the  appearance  of  everything,  seemed 
to  he  having  quite  a feast.  Tatong  caught  the 
odor  of  a stew  of  beef,  and  it  made  her  hunger 
keener  than  ever. 

The  little  slave  approached  and  stood  regard- 
ing them  wistfully.  There  were  three  men,  one 
old,  two  young  ones,  and  two  women.  One 
woman  was  quite  old.  She  was  even  older  than 
the  man.  But  she  didn’t  seem  to  have  old  ways. 
Instead  she  was  making  most  of  the  merriment 
for  the  party.  Her  eyes  at  once  lighted  upon 
Tatong.  She  called  out  to  her  loudly, 

“Is  it  some  of  our  meal  you  want  ? Well, 
come  along  then  and  get  it.  No  one  must  go  by 
this  camp  hungry.” 

All  the  others  now  raised  their  heads  to  gaze 
at  Tatong.  She  was  afraid  of  the  men,  though 
they  did  not  look  unkind.  They  only  regarded 
her  curiously.  However,  the  two  women  glanced 
at  her  so  encouragingly  she  went  to  them  with- 
out further  hesitation. 

The  old  woman  made  a place  for  Tatong  next 
to  herself.  Then  she  handed  her  a small  bowl, 


saying : 


18G 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“Come,  here  is  the  hot  rice  water.  Drink  it. 
Then  you  shall  have  a rib  of  beef  and  some  of 
the  stew.” 

Tatong  accepted  the  bowl  eagerly.  How  good 
it  was!  But  there  was* surely  nothing  to  com- 
pare with  the  rib  of  beef  and  generous  portion  of 
the  stew  they  gave  her  later.  As  she  was  smack- 
ing her  lips  over  it  she  heard  a whine  close  be- 
side her.  Glancing  down  there  was  Kijun. 
The  poor  dog  was  so  hungry  he  was  unable 
longer  to  restrain  himself.  He  was  now  sitting 
upon  his  haunches  and  begging  for  food  with  all 
the  force  of  eyes  and  of  pleading  voice. 

Tatong  took  the  rib  from  her  lips  to  tear  off 
a portion  of  the  meat,  but  the  old  woman,  see- 
ing the  movement,  restrained  her. 

“He  shall  have  some,  too,”  she  said.  “What 
a smart  dog  he  seems  to  be !” 

As  she  spoke  she  selected  a bone  with  yet 
plenty  of  shreds  on  it,  and  gave  it  to  Kijun. 

He  at  once  thanked  her  by  barking  and  frisk- 
ing, then  set  to  work  as  industriously  as  the 
others. 

When  she  had  eaten  Tatong  rose  to  go.  They 
had  asked  her  many  questions,  for  curiosity  is 
one  of  the  ruling  traits  of  the  Korean  character, 
but,  somehow,  she  had  managed  not  to  tell  them 
of  the  principal  things  that  concerned  her.  They 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  187 

knew  she  was  going  to  find  Nakta,  hut  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  that  personage  none  of  the  party 
could  tell  Tatong,  as  not  one  of  them  had  ever 
heard  of  her. 

As  Tatong  was  about  to  turn  away  the  old 
woman  fixed  her  twinkling  little  eyes  upon  Ki- 
jun. 

“He’s  such  a smart  one,”  she  «aid,  “I  think 
I’d  like  to  have  him.  Of  course  you  wouldn’t 
mind  giving  him  to  me  now  after  the  way  we’ve 
treated  you  ?”  and  she  raised  her  eyes  to  Ta- 
tong’s. 

The  question  was  such  a surprise  that  Tatong 
could  hardly  believe  she  had  heard  it.  What ! 
give  up  Kijun,  her  faithful  Kijun,  who  had  fol- 
lowed her  through  everything,  who  had  even 
saved  her  life  ? How  could  she  do  it  ? Surely 
the  old  woman  wouldn’t  ask  that  of  her,  even 
though  she  had  given  her  the  meal.  But  she 
was  asking  it  nevertheless,  for  she  had  again  re- 
peated the  question  to  Tatong. 

“It  will  be  hard  to  give  him  to  you,”  the  little 
slave  replied.  “lie  is  so  good  and  faithful,  and 
Oil ! he  is  all  I have !” 

Her  voice  quivered,  and  she  dropped  her  head 
that  they  might  not  see  the  tears  that  were  com- 
ing. 

“Well,  then,  I suppose  I must  take  him  my- 


188 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


self/’  said  the  old  woman,  and,  without  further 
words,  she  picked  up  a basket  that  was  near  and 
quickly  dropped  it  over  Kijun.  Then,  with  a 
loud  laugh,  she  pressed  her  elbow  over  it  and 
held  it  firmly. 

Kijun  began  to  hark  vigorously  in  protest. 
They  should  understand  that  he  was  no  willing 
prisoner. 

Tatong  turned  away  slowly.  The  tears  were 
falling  now,  and  her  feelings  with  reference  to 
Kijun  had  so  overcome  her  that  she  could  find 
no  words  in  which  to  speak.  IIow  was  she  ever 
to  go  on  without  Kijun  ? What  a dreadfully  lonely 
way  it  would  he  ! But  suppose  the  little  dog  had 
never  come ; she  would  have  had  to  do  it  then. 
So  she  tried  to  he  as  brave  as  possible  and  fight 
back  the  tears. 

The  old  woman  had  not  only  taken  the  dog, 
but  was  now  laughing  boisterously  aboixt  it. 
Even  as  poor  Tatong,  her  heart  throbbing  with 
sorrow,  was  turning  away  she  began  to  plague 
her  with  words  about  Kijun. 

“Oh ! see  how  he  is  dancing  about,  trying  his 
best  to  get  loose,  but,  of  course,  he  can’t.  I have 
got  him  too  tight  for  that.  So,  you  see,  you’ll 
have  to  go  on  without  him.” 

Tatong  did  not  turn  to  glance  back.  She 
could  not.  It  would  be  all  the  harder  to  see 


189 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 

Kijun  struggling  to  get  to  her.  She  walked  on 
for  several  paces.  More  and  more  she  missed 
him.  How  was  she  to  go  on  without  hearing  his 
soft  feet  pattering  behind,  or  without  seeing  his 
faithful  little  form  pressing  nearer  to  hers  or 
running  ahead  in  the  road  ? 

All  at  once  she  heard  a loud  hail  from  the  old 
woman.  She  was  calling  to  her  to  stop.  Ta- 
tong turned  around.  Could  she  believe  her  own 
eyes?  Yes,  the  old  woman  had  really  released 
her  hold  upon  the  basket.  She  was  standing  up 
clapping  her  hands  and  wagging  her  head,  while 
there,  speeding  toward  Tatong  as  fast  as  his 
short  legs  would  carry  him,  was  Kijun,  the  faith- 
ful ! He  had  struggled  until  he  had  gotten  out, 
and  was  now  fleeing  to  rejoin  her,  was  Tatong’s 
first  thought.  But  the  next  moment  she  saw 
that  the  old  woman  was  encouraging  the  dog  to 
his  highest  speed. 

“Take  him ! take  him !”  she  cried  to  Tatong, 
“and  let  your  face  clear  up  again.  I only  did  it 
to  see  how  much  I could  plague  you.  There ! go 
with  your  dog,  and  welcome  !” 

Tatong  sank  to  her  knees  to  greet  Kijun,  her 
heart  beating  with  gladness.  Then  she  arose  to 
go  on  again.  How  cheerful  would  he  the  way 
now ! But  Oh  ! how  could  the  old  woman  have 
teased  her  so  ? Yet  she  had  given  her  food,  and 


190 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


so  that  remembrance  made  a warm  glow  in  Ta- 
tong’s  heart.  It  was  better  to  remember  the 
good  of  any  one  than  the  bad.  If  only  all  of  us 
could  keep  that  rule  ! 

The  path  grew  steep  again.  She  was  now 
climbing  a roughly  wooded  hill.  There  were 
many  stones,  too,  all  along  the  way.  As  Tatong 
gained  the  summit  an  exclamation  escaped  her. 
She  had  come  at  length  to  the  mirioks , to  those 
about  which  Nakta  had  told  her;  yes,  the  very 
ones.  She  felt  sure  of  it.  She  had  passed  others 
on  the  way,  but  they  were  not  the  ones,  she 
knew.  They  were  neither  so  large  as  ISTakta  had 
said,  nor  were  there  enough  of  them.  But  these 
were  large,  and  how  many  there  were ! Tatong 
conld  not  see  them  all  at  first,  they  stretched 
away  so  on  every  side.  In  the  center  were  two 
immense  mirioTcs — stones  that  had  been  taken 
from  the  river,  where  they  had  been  washed  into 
the  semblance  of  human  figures  by  the  action  of 
the  water.  All  around  nnder  the  trees  there 
were  heaps  of  stones,  which  had  been  placed 
there  as  sacred  to  various  demons.  Enclosing 
the  mirioks  and  the  piles  of  stones  were  tall 
posts  painted  red,  black  and  yellow,  their  tops 
cut  into  grotesque  faces.  Stretched  from  post  to 
post  were  thick  ropes  of  straw,  with  pendant 
tassels  of  the  same  material  or  streamers  of  rags. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  191 

These  were  to  prevent  the  coming  in  of  the  evil 
spirits.  From  the  branches  of  the  trees  were 
hanging  worn-out  straw  shoes,  fragments  of 
grass  clothing,  gnarled  roots,  etc.,  all  placed 
there  for  the  same  purpose,  the  frightening  away 
of  wicked  spirits. 

As  Tatong  paused  to  look  at  the  mirioks  a 
great  yellow  dog  rushed  up  to  her  barking  furi- 
ously. In  an  instant  Kijun  had  valiantly  sprung 
forward  to  give  battle.  Seeing  this  smaller  hut 
determined  opponent,  the  larger  dog  turned  tail 
and  fled,  Kijun  after  him.  Tatong,  alarmed  for 
the  safety  of  her  faithful  friend,  should  the  big 
dog  decide  to  turn  nose  again  toward  him,  set 
off  in  chase,  not  so  much  as  to  help  Kijun  in 
the  encounter  as  to  coax  him  to  return. 

Over  the  rocks  they  flew,  around  one  hill  and 
then  another,  till  finally  the  big  dog  disappeared 
behind  a ledge  and  Kijun  threw  himself  down 
beside  it,  panting  from  exhaustion. 

“Kijun,  brave  dog,”  said  Tatong,  coming  up 
to  him,  “don’t  try  any  more  to  chase  him.  It 
will  do  no  good.  His  legs  are  too  long  for  yours. 
I know  you  would  have  made  him  remember 
could  you  have  caught  him,  so  that’s  enough, 
isn’t  it,  my  good  dog  ?” 

Yes,  evidently  the  praise  was  enough  for  Ki- 
jun. He  showed  his  delight  at  it  in  as  demon- 


1U2  T along,  the  Little  Slave. 

strative  a way  as  his  exhausted  condition  would 
allow. 

The  light  was  beginning  to  fade  from  under 
the  trees,  for  the  sun  had  gone  down.  Soon  the 
twilight  would  come,  then  the  darkness  of  the 
night. 

Tatong  started  up  in  alarm. 

“0  Kijun,  we  must  go  on  as  fast  as  we  can, 
my  dog,  for  if  we  have  not  found  Nakta  when 
the  dark  comes,  what  shall  we  do  ?” 

Kijun,  too,  seemed  to  realize  the  situation, 
for,  at  the  words,  he  sprang  up  and  started  as 
briskly  ahead  as  his  tired  feet  would  permit. 

Tatong  tried  to  find  her  way  hack  to  the 
mirioks , so  as  to  go  on  in  the  direction  she 
thought  was  right.  But  iu  vain,  for,  though  she 
wandered  about  for  some  time,  first  one  way, 
then  another,  she  did  not  come  again  to  the 
mirioks.  She  sank  down  on  a small  pile  of 
stones  trying  to  decide  what  to  do.  Tears  were 
in  her  eyes  and  her  heart  was  heating  loudly. 
She  was  surely  lost.  What  should  she  do  ? The 
night  was  coming  on,  and  there  were  wild  beasts 
in  the  woods,  she  feared.  Just  then  some  sounds 
came  to  her.  They  were  those  of  stirring  life  in 
the  valley  below. 

“It  must  he  a village,”  she  cried  quickly. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  began  to  descend 


FATHERING  STRAW  IN  KOREA. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


193 


toward  the  direction  whence  the  noises  came. 
As  she  expected,  there  was  a village  nestled  in 
the  valley.  A part  of  it  was  perched  along  the 
side  of  the  hill.  Ah  ! now  she  would  have  shelter 
for  the  night  and  doubtless  food.  In  the  morn- 
ing she  could  go  on  again  searching  for  Xakta. 

At  the  first  three  or  four  huts  she  approached 
she  saw  only  men.  At  length  she  came  to  a 
dwelling  that  stood  rather  apart  from  the  rest. 
It  was  neater,  too,  and  better  in  every  way  than 
any  she  had  yet  seen.  It  had  latticed  doors  and 
a new  roof  of  straw.  There  were  also  palings 
of  bamboo  enclosing  it,  and  within  several  fruit 
trees  and  a garden  patch.  Tatong  could  also 
hear  some  pigs  squealing  in  a pen. 

An  old  woman  was  standing  by  the  palings 
looking  out  upon  the  road.  Tatong  approached 
her.  Although  the  night  was  falling,  darkness 
had  not  yet  come.  There  was  a soft,  gray  light 
whereby  nearer  objects  could  be  seen  with  some 
distinctiveness. 

“I  am  lost,”  said  Tatong,  coming  up  beside 
her.  “Will  you  not  let  me  have  shelter  for  the 
night  ? In  the  morning  I will  go  on  again.” 

The  old  woman  started  and  gave  her  a close 
look. 

“Do  I not  know  you  ? Your  voice  is  familiar 
and  your  face.  Where  have  I seen  it  ?” 


194 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“You  have  never  seen  me  before,  I suppose, 
madam.  I have  come  from  Seoiil.” 

“But  I have  lived  in  Seoiil,”  replied  the  old 
woman  quickly.  “Your  face  ! I am  sure  I have 
seen  it,”  looking  intently  at  Tatong.  “I  may  he 
able  to  tell  directly.  But  come  in.  Of  course 
you  can  stay  all  night.  You  can’t  go  on  in  the 
dark,  especially  if  you  are  lost.  Besides,  we 
never  turn  any  one  away  who  comes  needing 
shelter.” 

“And  may  my  dog  come,  too,  madam  ? He 
is  as  tired  and  troubled  as  I am.” 

The  old  woman  glanced  down  at  Kijun.  He 
looked  very  gentle  and  inoffensive.  He  was,  too, 
so  tired. 

“O  yes,  the  little  beast  may  come  in.  He’ll 
surely  do  no  damage.  But  leave  him  in  the 
yard.  He’ll  find  a bed  of  straw  at  the  corner  of 
the  house.” 


CHAPTER  XII. 

“The  Jesus  Doctrine.” 

HE  old  woman  led  the  way  into  the  hut. 


She  went  straight  through  the  front  apart- 
ment. It  was  small,  but  very  clean,  so  clean 
that  Tatong,  even  in  her  trouble,  noticed  it.  It 
had  mats  spread  on  the  floor,  and  something  that 
was  quite  new  to  Tatong,  pillows  of  straw  in- 
stead of  the  ones  of  wood,  to  which  she  had  been 
used.  There  was  a table  or  two,  and  on  them 
were  some  flowers.  The  walls  were  covered  with 
glazed  paper,  and  there  were  also  small  windows 
of  this  material. 

Two  men  were  sitting  in  this  apartment,  an  old 
and  a young  man.  They  had  already  set  aflame 
a couple  of  rush  lights,  and  by  means  of  them 
were  twisting  into  .shape  plaits  of  straw  with 
which  to  make  hats.  Their  fingers  were  busy,  so, 
too,  were  their  tongues.  It  seemed  to  Tatong 
that  she  heard  them  say  something  that  sounded 
like  “Jesus  Doctrine.”  Her  heart  gave  a hound. 
Could  it  really  be  ? But  she  could  hear  no  more, 
since  just  then  they  stopped  to  glance  at  her  and 
the  old  woman. 


195 


19G 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


To  Tatong’s  surprise,  when  the  old  woman 
spoke  to  the  men,  they  answered  her  pleasantly. 
Then  they  looked  curiously  at  Tatong. 

“It  is  one  who  has  been  lost,  and  who  has  en- 
treated to  stay  for  the  night,”  said  the  old 
woman  in  explanation. 

They  did  not  question  further,  hut  turned 
again  to  their  work. 

The  old  woman  passed  straight  on  into  the 
kitchen.  The  fires  were  lit,  and  the  evening 
meal  was  already  in  course  of  preparation. 
The  light  was  dim,  hut  it  was  sufficient  for  Ta- 
tong to  see  a woman’s  form  bending  over  the 
little  charcoal  furnace  on  which  the  cooking  was 
done.  She  turned  around  on  their  entrance,  and 
if  she  felt  any  surprise  at  seeing  two  enter  in- 
stead of  one,  she  did  not  show  it.  She  doubtless 
thought  it  some  one  from  a neighboring  hut  who 
had  come  on  an  errand,  or  maybe  to  visit. 

‘‘Here  is  one  who  has  been  lost,  and  who  comes 
entreating  of  us  shelter  for  the  night,”  said  the 
old  woman,  advancing. 

Just  at  that  moment  a ray  of  light  shot  up- 
ward from  an  opening  in  the  furnace,  revealing 
Tatong  sufficiently  for  the  woman  near  hv  to 
have  a very  good  view  of  her. 

“Why,  she  is  little  more  than  a child !”  said 
this  second  woman  quickly. 


T atone],  the  Little  Slave. 


197 


The  voice,  more  than  the  words,  gave  a strange 
feeling  to  Tatong.  It  was  as  though  her  heart 
had  stopped,  then  gone  on  again.  What  could  it 
mean  ? There  was  little  in  the  words,  nothing 
beyond  what  they  expressed.  But  the  voice,  how 
soft,  how  gentle  it  was ! Xo  other  woman’s  voice 
had  ever  sounded  so  to  Tatong.  Usually  they 
were  harsh  and  unpleasant.  Chansa  and  Xakta, 
it  is  true,  had  spoken  kindly,  and  so,  too,  had 
the  old  woman  who  now  stood  beside  her.  But 
none  of  the  voices  had  sounded  like  this  one 
whose  words  had  just  fallen  upon  her  ears,  so 
clear,  so  sweet,  and  with  such  tender  feeling. 

Tatong  almost  held  her  breath,  hoping  she 
would  speak  again.  In  a moment  more  she  did. 

“Poor  child ! are  you  really  lost  ? You  look 
young  to  be  wandering  about  so.” 

The  kindness,  the  pity  in  the  voice ! They  al- 
most overcame  Tatong.  She  felt  like  throwing 
herself  at  the  feet  of  this  gentle  one,  and  there 
sobbing  out  all  her  trouble.  Surely,  one  who 
could  speak  thus  could  he  trusted  with  all.  But 
the  presence  of  the  old  woman  restrained  her, 
and  so,  instead  of  following  what  her  heart 
prompted,  she  said : 

“I  do  not  know  if  I am  really  lost.  I have 
come  seeking  one  who  is  called  Xakta  by  those 
who  can  thus  speak  to  her,  and  she  may  live  in 


198 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


this  very  village,  though,  so  far,  I have  not 
found  her.  She  has  a great  ox  named  Mokpo. 
Oh  ! he  is  so  beautiful  and  so  good ! He  goes  to 
the  city  with  her,  carrying  the  burdens  for  her 
on  his  back.  Sometimes  ISTakta  and  the  others 
ride  thereon  in  a pavilion  hung  with  yellow  cur- 
tains. Oh ! it  is  grand  ! She  took  me  up  there 
once  and  I saw  the  Kurdong.  My  heart  stands 
still  now  to  think  if  it.  It  was  not  long  ago,” 
she  added. 

“Why,  I believe  I have  seen  that  very  one,’” 
said  the  old  woman  quickly.  “How  and  then 
she  passes  here,  though  I think  she  lives  in  a vil- 
lage further  away  over  the  hills.  Is  she  very 
tall,  taller  than  women  usually  are  ?”  she  asked, 
turning  to  Tatong. 

“Oh ! yes,”  said  the  little  slave  quickly. 

“And  does  she  wear  a handkerchief  of  red 
and  yellow  about  her  head  ?” 

“Yes,  yes,”  responded  Tatong  eagerly. 

“What  color  did  you  say  the  ox  was  ?” 

Tatong  had  not  said  as  yet,  but  now  she  began 
and  gave  a description  of  Mokpo  which  must 
have  made  it  quite  clear  to  any  one. 

“It  is  the  same,  I feel  sure,”  continued  the 
old  woman. 

“Oh  ! do  you  know  where  to  find  her  ?”  asked 
Tatong. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


199 


“I  do  not;  but  she  may  pass  here  any  time. 
Maybe  to-morrow.” 

“But  it  may  be  days.  Ob ! what  shall  I do 
before  I find  her  ?” 

Then  the  voice  that  bad  the  way  of  going 
straight  to  Tatong’s  heart  as  though  it  were 
something  alive  that  could  nestle  right  up 
against  it,  and  make  the  sweetest  feeling  she 
had  ever  known,  spoke  again : 

“Child,  if  it  is  in  trouble  yoii  are  about  a 
place  to  stay  until  then,  you  may  remain  here 
and  welcome.” 

“Yes,”  added  the  old  woman  kindly,  “you 
may.  I meant  to  tell  you  that  from  the  first. 
She  but  speaks  as  my  own  tongue  would,  had  it 
first  said  the  words.” 

“You  are  good  ! Oh  ! how  good  !”  cried  Tatong, 
and  now  unable  longer  to  control  herself,  sank 
upon  her  feet  before  them. 

“Never  mind  to  thank  us  so,”  said  the  younger 
woman  gently,  and,  stooping,  raised  her  to  a sit- 
ting posture.  Then  she  took  a place  beside  her, 
the  old  woman,  too,  advanced  to  the  other  side, 
and  dropped  upon  her  heels. 

“But,  suppose  before  I find  Nakta,  they  find 
me?”  continued  Tatong,  overcome  by  fresh 
thoughts  of  her  trouble,  as  well  as  by  this  gen- 
tleness and  kindness  that  had  so  conquered  her 


200 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


heart  it  could  no  longer  remain  closed  against 
them. 

“Oh,  child,”  said  the  younger  woman  quickly, 
and  with  a tone  of  reproach  that  cut  Tatong  to 
the  heart,  “have  you  run  away  V’ 

Tatong  could  keep  hack  nothing  now.  She 
must  tell  all.  After  the  tone  of  that  voice  she 
could  no  longer  be  silent.  Surely  when  that 
gentle  one  knew  just  what  she  had  suffered,  I10W 
hard  had  been  her  lot,  when  she  had  been  told 
of  the  cruel  thing  that  had  been  planned  against 
her,  and  to  escape  from  which  she  had  fled,  she 
could  not,  she  would  not,  say  that  she,  Tatong, 
had  done  wrong  to  come  away. 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  glanced  at  the  kind 
face  bending  near  her.  For  the  first  time  she 
saw  it  clearly.  The  face,  too,  as  the  voice  had 
done,  gave  her  a strange,  an  indescribable  feeling. 
She  had  never  seen  a face  that  looked  like  this 
one,  so  gentle,  so  calm,  so  sad.  It  was,  too,  a 
face  not  so  dark  as  those  to  which  she  had  been 
used,  and  the  hair,  instead  of  being  of  that  stiff- 
ness and  blackness  so  common  in  the  hair  of  the 
women  with  whom  Tatong  had  daily  mingled, 
was  nearer  the  color  of  her  own,  but  with  a gloss 
and  softness  Tatong’ s did  not  possess.  She  could 
not  see  clearly  the  color  of  the  eyes,  the  light  was 
not  quite  strong  enough  for  that,  but  they  were 


201 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

now  looking  at  her  with  a sad,  reproachful  look 
beneath  the  calm,  smooth  brow,  against  which 
the  bands  of  hair  were  tidily  arranged. 

“O  madam,”  said  Tatong,  her  voice  almost 
ready  to  break  with  sobs,  “I  had  to  run  away. 
They  were  so  hard,  so  cruel.  They  beat  me  with 
the  bamboos.  Sometimes  it  was  on  the  sores 
that  were  still  there  from  the  other  beatings. 
And  they  did  not  wish  me  to  have  what  I needed 
to  eat,  and  often  I had  to  carry  burdens  that 
nearly  bent  my  hack.  They  were  going  away, 
and  so  they  meant  to  sell  me.  It  was  to  one  who 
was  even  harder  and  more  cruel.  I could  not 
stand  the  thought  of  it,  and  so  I ran  away.  Oh  ! 
tell  me  you  do  not  blame  me,  that  yoii  will  not 
give  me  up  to  them.  O ! I beseech  you  not  to  let 
them  have  me  if  they  come.” 

She  held  out  her  clasped  hands  as  she  en- 
treated them,  first  to  the  young  woman,  and  then 
to  the  old  one.  Her  attitude  was  such  it  must 
have  touched  even  a hard  heart,  and  certainly 
neither  of  these  women  possessed  that. 

“So  you  are  a slave,”  said  the  older  woman, 
hut  not  harshly.  Then  she  added  with  much 
feeling  in  her  voice,  “Poor  thing !” 

“Yes,  poor  child,”  the  other  voice  added,  the 
voice  Tatong’ s heart  had  almost  stopped  its  heat- 
ing to  hear ; “it  was  terrible  for  you  ! I do  not 


202 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


see  liow  you  stood  it  as  you  did.  You  were  rigLt 
to  leave  them.  You  ought  to  have  done  it  be- 
fore.” 

“But,  madam,  suppose  they  find  me ! "What 
shall  I do?”  cried  Tatong  again. 

Sure  enough,  what  should  she  do  ? Under  the 
law,  she  was  still  the  slave  of  Mr.  dSTi.  During 
his  absence  everything  relating  to  her  was  con- 
trolled by  Mr.  Yin.  He  wanted  so  much  money 
for  her,  and  he  would  certainly  have  it  could  he 
lay  his  hands  upon  her.  Was  he  not  even  then 
searching  for  her  ? Had  she  not  seen  him  her- 
self ? What  a narrow  escape  she  had  had  from 
him  ! A little  more,  and  he  would  have  seen  and 
caught  her.  Might  he  not  ask  questions  and  yet 
trace  her  out  ? It  never  occurred  to  Tatong  that 
so  great  was  the  desire  of  the  Xis  to  get  away 
from  Seoiil  that  they  would  at  the  appointed 
time,  or  very  near  to  it,  leave  without  her  rather 
than  run  the  risk  of  delaying  their  journey  in 
the  hope  of  coming  up  with  her. 

“Oh!  I must  find  Hakta!”  declared  Tatong, 
parti}’  arising  in  her  excitement,  “and  she  will 
take  me  to  the  kind  stranger.  She  will  surely 
find  him  for  me,  she  and  Mokpo.  Oh ! he  is  so 
good,  so  good!  He  will  buy  me  himself.  I feel 
that  he  will.  I will  entreat  him.  I will  promise 
to  he  the  best  slave  master  ever  had.” 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


203 


“Let  us  not  excite  her  further,”  said  the 
younger  woman  in  a low  tone  to  the  older  one. 
“The  poor  thing  is  almost  beside  herself  now. 
Take  her  out  and  give  her  something  to  do  while 
1 finish  with  the  meal.  It  will  be  better  for 
her.” 

The  old  woman  arose.  She  looked  at  Tatong, 
speaking  blithely, 

“Come,  let  us  go  feed  the  pigs.  I have  heard 
them  calling  for  their  swill  all  the  time  we  have 
been  talking.  Your  arms  look  strong  enough  to 
carry  it.” 

“Oh!  they  are,”  said  Tatong,  getting  up 
quickly.  “Give  it  to  me,”  eagerly. 

The  old  woman  looked  at  the  younger  one. 
Her  expression  said  plainly,  “Your  medicine  is 
very  good.” 

While  they  were  in  the  yard  Tatong  learned 
several  things  from  the  old  woman,  for  she  was 
very  talkative.  Her  name  Avas  Won-sa,  and  that 
of  the  younger  A\Toman,  her  daughter,  Amnok. 
The  older  of  the  tAvo  men  in  the  front  apartment 
was  the  husband  of  Won-sa,  and  the  other  her 
son.  They  had  lived  in  the  country  about  tAvelve 
years.  Prior  to  that  time  their  home  had  been 
in  the  great  city.  There  Amnok  had  met  Avith 
some  great  trouble ; Won-sa  did  not  say  what  it 
AAras,  but  it  Avas  of  such  a nature  Amnok  could 


204 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave. 


not  forget  it.  It  had  made  her  sad  ever  since. 
The  tears  filled  her  eyes  many  times  as  she 
thought  of  it. 

Mr.  San,  Won-sa’s  husband,  had  been  well-to- 
do  when  they  had  lived  in  the  city  and  Won-sa 
and  Amnok  had  gone  with  the  women  of  the 
very  best  class  outside  the  wives  of  the  nobles 
themselves.  But  a friend  in  whom  he  trusted 
had  proved  dishonest,  and  so  Mr.  San  had  lost 
nearly  all  he  had.  Only  enough  was  saved  to 
start  again  in  this  little  home  in  the  country. 
He  and  his  son  had  worked  hard,  and  while  they 
could  not  live  as  they  once  had,  still  they  had  not 
known  actual  want.  They  even  saved  some 
money  each  year. 

The  pigs  were  fed,  two  fine,  fat  fellows,  who 
squealed  lustily  when  they  caught  a whiff  of  the 
swill  that  was  being  brought,  then  Tatong  and 
Won-sa  returned  to  the  kitchen.  The  meal  was 
now  ready,  and  the  men  had  come  in  to  partake 
of  it.  Greatly  to  Tatong’ s surprise,  Won-sa  and 
Amnok  ate  at  their  own  little  table  at  the  same 
time  with  Mr.  San  and  his  son,  and  what  gave 
Tatong  still  more  astonishment,  they  talked  with 
each  other  during  the  time.  Surely  there  was 
something  that  had  come  to  these  people  that 
made  them  so  different  from  any  she  had  ever 
seen.  What  it  was  Tatong  was  soon  to  know, 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  205 

and  Oh ! what  joy  filled  her  as  the  knowledge 
came ! 

When  the  work  in  the  kitchen  was  finished 
Won-sa  and  her  daughter  went  forward  to  the 
front  apartment,  where  the  men  seemed  to  he 
awaiting  them.  Tatong  could  hardly  believe  her 
ears  when  she  was  told  she  might  follow.  What 
could  it  mean  ? The  women  going  to  the  front 
apartment,  there  to  sit  in  company  with  the 
men  ! Had  there  ever  been  anything  like  it  be- 
fore ? Surely  she  was  dreaming,  and  would 
awaken  soon  to  find  it  all  a fancy,  a delusion. 
But  no,  there  it  was  taking  place  before  her  eyes, 
and  she  was  certainly  awake. 

Tatong  took  her  place  in  a corner,  for,  even 
with  the  encouragement  that  was  given  her,  she 
could  not  sit  ont  in  the  circle  of  light  with  the 
others.  So  she  drew  back  within  the  corner,  but 
was  listening  intently.  There  was  nothing  that 
would  escape  her. 

They  talked  first  about  a market  that  was  soon 
to  be  held  at  one  of  the  neighboring  villages. 
Some  merchants  from  the  interior  were  ex- 
pected, and  there  would  doubtless  be  good  sale 
for  the  hats  Mr.  San  and  his  son  had  been  for 
some  time  making.  It  seemed  they  wanted  a 
part  of  the  money  for  a particular  purpose. 
Whatever  this  purpose  was,  it  was  something 


20G 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


that  lay  close  to  their  hearts.  They  talked  about 
it  until  their  eyes  shone  and  their  lips  trembled. 
It  had  to  do  with  some  one  who  came  now  and 
then  to  see  them,  hut  who  had  not  been  in  some 
time.  It  was  one  they  reverenced  more  than  any 
other  they  knew,  for,  Oh ! he  had  done  so  much 
for  them,  had  told  them  so  many  things  to  make 
them  better  and  happier.  Since  his  coming, 
even  the  earth  had  seemed  different,  the  very 
flowers  put  on  a neAv  appearance,  while  the  birds 
sang  as  they  never  had  before. 

lie  was  coming  back  again  before  a great 
while,  this  one  they  reverenced,  he  who  had  told 
them  the  beautiful  things.  He  was  coming  back 
to  see  if  he  could  not  have  a place  where  he  could 
go  regularly  to  talk  to  those  who  wanted  to  hear 
more  of  what  he  had  to  tell.  So  he  had  asked 
those  who  had  listened  to  his  teachings  and  who 
believed  what  he  had  told  them,  and  even  those 
who  were  interested,  but  who  did  not  yet  believe, 
to  get  together  all  the  money  they  could  against 
the  time  of  his  returning,  so  that  the  place  might 
he  built.  It  was  for  this  purpose  Mr.  San  and 
his  son  were  to  lay  aside  the  money  they  earned. 
Won-sa  and  Amnok,  too,  had  a share  to  contri- 
bute, something  more  than  a mite,  which  they 
had  earned  in  various  ways. 

“I  am  so  glad  we  have  it  to  give,”  said  Won- 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  207 

sa.  “I  wish  it  were  more.  But  we  will  not  stop 
until  we  have  the  place  where  the  Jesus  Doc- 
trine can  be  taught.” 

“The  Jesus  Doctrine!”  At  sound  of  the 
words  Tatong  sprang  to  her  feet,  so  great  was 
her  excitement.  She  uttered  a cry  that  attracted 
the  others.  Then,  as  they  glanced  toward  her, 
she  exclaimed : 

“The  Jesus  Doctrine!  Oh!  do  you  know 
about  the  Jesus  Doctrine?” 

They  were  now  as  much  astonished  by  her  ex- 
cited repeating  of  the  words  as  she  had  been 
wrhen  Won-sa  had  spoken.  What  did  they  mean 
to  the  little  slave  that  she  should  show  such  emo- 
tion at  mention  of  them  ? 

It  was  Amnok  who  spoke  to  her,  her  voice  low 
and  full  of  feeling. 

“Yes,  child,  we  have  heard  of  the  Jesus  Doc- 
trine, the  beautiful,  wonderful  Jesus  Doctrine. 
What  is  there  in  our  knowing  that  moves  you 
so  ?” 

“O  madam,  I did  not  know  that  I would  find 
any  one  out  here  who  believed  in  that.  It  seems 
too  good  to  be  true !” 

“Then,  child,  you,  too,  have  heard  it  ?” 

Amnok  leaned  nearer.  Her  large  gray  eyes, 
misty  with  the  feeling  that  surged  at  her  heart, 
were  fastened  eagerly,  expectantly  upon  Tatong. 


20S 


Taiong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“Yes,  madam,  but  only  a little,  Oli ! so  little, 
nothing  like  I long  to  hear,  as  I hope  to  hear, 
if  only  I can  find  the  kind  one  for  whom  I am 
looking.  It  is  to  search  for  him  that  I came  to 
get  Yakta  and  Mokpo  to  help  me.” 

“Where  did  you  learn  of  the  Jesus  Doctrine  ?” 
asked  Mr.  San,  now  looking  at  her  intently. 

“It  was  first  told  me  by  one  I met  on  the 
streets,  or,  that  is,  it  was  about  God,  the  Father, 
who  sent  Jesus  to  teach  this  doctrine.  O sir,” 
she  broke  off  suddenly,  and  looking  at  Mr.  San, 
all  her  heart  speaking  through  her  eyes,  “do  you 
know  of  God,  the  F atlier  ?” 

“I  know  of  him  who  is  called  God,”  said  Mr. 
San,  speaking  slowly  and  feelingly.  “lie  is  the 
Great  One  who  lives  in  the  sky,  who  will  reward 
us  if  we  do  well  and  punish  us  if  Ave  do  evil.  Is 
not  that  the  same  that  you,  too,  have  heard  of 
him  ?” 

“It  is  the  same,  but  be  who  taught  me,  the 
kind,  the  gentle  one,  told  me  that  God  Avas  the 
Father — O sir,  that  be  AAras  my  Father.” 

“That  is  doubtless  so,”  said  Mr.  San,  “since 
the  one  aaIio  came  teaching  told  us  that  be,  this 
Great  One,  God,  had  made  all,  not  only  the 
world,  but  those  AA’ho  are  in  it.  If  he  has  made 
us,  then  he  must  be  the  Father.” 

“Oh ! it  is  such  happiness  to  think  of  him  as 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


201) 


my  Father!  to  think  that  I have  a father!  But 
when  I remember  how  great  he  is,  and.  how 
grand  is  the  home  in  which  he  lives,  I fear  that 
it  cannot  he  true,  that  a wretched  little  slave  like 
me  could  not  have  such  a Father.  O sir,  I do 
so  Avant  to  feel  that  there  is  one  who  cares  for  me, 
who  is  not  willing  that  I should  suffer  so,  who 
may  some  day  send  for  me  to  go  where  he  is." 

She  had  partly  arisen.  She  was  bending  to- 
ward them,  her  face  now  within  the  circle  of 
light.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  her  eyes  were 
burning,  her  hands  were  clasped  and  out- 
stretched. Her  whole  posture  betokened  sor- 
row, despair,  entreaty.  It  touched  the  hearts 
of  those  about  her,  even  those  of  Mr.  San  and 
his  son,  for,  taught  as  they  had  been  by  the 
sweet  “Jesus  Doctrine,”  much  that  had  been 
hard  and  unyielding  had  become  soft  and  gen- 
tle. God,  they  had  been  told,  would  only  be  mer- 
ciful to  them  as  they  were  merciful  to  others. 
So  it  had  inclined  their  hearts  to  such  feelings 
as  they  had  never  known  before.  They  could 
feel  pity  for  such  despair,  such  sorrow  as  they 
saw  in  the  child  before  them. 

“This  God  whom  you  call  the  Father  can  do 
many  great  and  wonderful  things,”  said  Mr. 
San,  speaking  slowly.  “If  the  one  who  knew 
positively  of  him  told  you,  then  it  must  be  true. 


210 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


He  who  came  here  teaching  us  said  that  God 
was  great,  hut  he  is  also  pitiful;  that  he  is  not 
willing  that  any  should  perish.  That  must 
mean,  too,  that  he  is  not  willing  any  should  suf- 
fer.” 

“It  is  strange  you  should  think  thus  of  a 
father.  Child,  as  you  must  know,  as  you  surely 
have  seen,  fathers,  as  a general  thing,  that  is, 
the  fathers  whose  hearts  are  not  touched  by  the 
sweet  Jesus  Doctrine,  care  nothing  for  their 
little  girls.”  ? 

It  was  Amnok  who  spoke.  She  had  raised  her 
eyes  again  to  Tatong’ s face,  and  Oh!  how  sad 
was  her  own ! 

“I  know  it,  madam,  I know  it ! But  I have 
heard  that  somewhere  there  are  fathers  who 
care  for  their  little  girls.  It  must  he  that  it  is 
in  that  country  from  which  they  have  brought 
the  Jesus  Doctrine.  I am  sure  now  that  it 
is.  Oh ! I have  thought  that  somewhere  there 
might  be  a father  like  that  for  me.” 

“And  never  a mother  ? Oh ! child,  have  you 
never  thought  that' you  might  have  a mother  too  ?” 

Amnok’s  voice  had  sunk  almost  to  a whisper, 
but  she  was  leaning  so  near  to  Tatong  that  every 
word  was  heard  by  the  little  slave  distinctly. 
The  child  could  see  also  her  parted  lips,  across 
which  there  was  a deep  line  of  crimson,  while 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  211 

her  eyes  had  so  intense  a glow  Tatong  could  al- 
most feel  it  npon  her  face. 

The  words  struck  the  little  slave  strangely. 
A mother  ? No ; she  had  never  thought  of  that 
before.  The  idea  heretofore  entertained  by  her 
was  of  one  who  had  power,  the  means  of  saving 
her  from  her  wretched  lot.  Women  had  nothing 
of  that  kind.  All  the  authority,  the  right  of  dic- 
tating, of  saying  what  must  be  done,  and  what 
must  not,  came  from  the  other  side.  So  thus 
every  hope  of  rescue,  of  change  from  the  miser- 
able lot  to  a happier  one,  was  based  upon  the 
strength,  the  power  of  a father.  But  now  Am- 
nok’s  words  stirred  a new,  a strange  chord  in 
her  heart.  The  more  she  looked  at  Amnok  the 
more  perceptibly  did  that  chord  vibrate.  A 
mother  ! What  would  it  mean  to  have  a mother  ? 
Oh ! if  it  were  one  like  Mrs.  Ni  and  some  of  the 
other  harsh  women  with  whom  Tatong7 s life  had 
been  cast — Oh  ! she  felt  that  she  would  rather  not. 
But  if  it  were  some  one  like  Amnok  now — Ta- 
tong’s  heart  almost  stopped  beating,  tears  came 
and  veiled  her  eyes  so  that  Amnok’s  face  shone 
only  through  a mist.  The  little  slave  could  not 
tell  why  the  tears  came.  It  seemed  so  odd  they 
should,  for  she  felt  no  sorrow.  It  was  anything 
else.  It  was  something  that  filled  her  heart  so  it 
was  almost  ready  to  come  out  of  her  body.  The 


212 


Tritong,  the  Little  Slave. 


others  about  her  must  surely  hear  it  beating, 
heating  to  get  out. 

Tatong  pressed  nearer,  nearer  still.  She 
placed  her  fingers  softly  upon  Anmok’s  garment. 
Oh  ! if  she  could  only  put  them  upon  Amnok  her- 
self ! She  must.  She  could  not  keep  from  do- 
ing it.  The  impulse  was  too  great.  She  could 
not  control  it.  But  just  as  the  little  yellow 
hand  had  lifted  itself  to  follow  the  promptings 
of  the  heart,  Amnok’s  own  fell  upon  it  with  a 
pressure  that  sent  the  warm  blood  tingling 
throughout  Tatong’s  body.  Xever  in  all  her  life 
had  she  felt  like  that. 

“Where  was  it  you  told  me  you  had  heard  the 
Jesus  Doctrine  ?” 

It  was  Mr.  San’s  voice  that  spoke,  and  he  was 
looking  at  Tatong. 

She  answered  him  at  once,  but  her  voice 
trembled.  X ot  yet  had  she  control  over  herself. 

“I  first  heard  of  God,  the  Father,  from  one  I 
met  on  the  street,  and  who  was  kind — Oh ! so 
kind ! Then  he  told  me  of  a place  where  I could 
go  to  hear  more.  It  was  the  Marble  Pagoda.  Do 
you  not  know  where  it  is  ? It  is  the  one  that  has 
had  a part  taken  off,  the  one  where  many  people 
say  there  are  demons  and  spirits.  But  those  who 
went  to  hear  the  kind  one  and  the  white  brother 
never  seemed  afraid.  There  were  so  many  beau- 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


213 


tiful  things  that  were  told  it  kept  them  from 
thinking  about  the  evil  ones.  But  they  had  to 
be  very  secret,  for  those  who  hated  the  Jesus 
Doctrine  had  threatened  to  do  many  wicked 
things.” 

“I  had  heard  that  there  were  places  where 
one  could  go  to  hear  the  Jesus  Doctrine  taught,” 
said  Ur.  San,  “but  I did  not  know  where  they 
were.  Xow  it  rejoices  me  to  hear  of  one.  I must 
go  soon,  for  my  soul  is  hungry  for  more  of  that 
on  which  it  has  already  fed.” 

“But  O sir,  there  is  no  longer  teaching  in  the 
Marble  Pagoda,”  said  Tatong  suddenly,  her  eyes 
growing  misty,  her  face  sad.  “There  was  some- 
thing had,  Oh  ! so  had,  that  happened.  The  kind 
stranger  was  hurt.  He  was  struck  on  the  head 
with  stones  for  telling  of  the  Jesus  Doctrine  to 
some  in  the  streets  who  had  asked  him.  He  has 
not  been  able  to  come  again  to  the  Marble  Pa- 
goda, and  now  the  teaching  must  stop,  for  with- 
out him  the  white  brother  can  not  make  things 
clear  to  the  people.” 

“Too  bad ! too  had  !”  said  Mr.  San,  and  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face  showed  how  keen  was  his 
disappointment. 

“We  shall  have  to  wait  now  until  the  teaching 
one  returns,”  said  Won-sa,  and  she,  too,  sighed. 

“That  will  be  a long  time  from  what  he  said,” 


214  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

added  Amnok.  “Oh ! if  we  could  only  find  an- 
other place  where  we  could  go  and  hear  more ! 
more  of  the  sweet  Jesus  Doctrine.” 

“There  is  a place/’  said  Tatong,  her  eyes 
glowing,  her  voice  ringing  out.  “Oh,  yes,  there 
surely  is ! It  is  where  the  kind  stranger  is  now 
sick,  where  the  white  brother  lives.  It  is  to  find 
that  place  I have  now  come  to  look  for  ISTakta; 
for,  Oh ! I am  certain,  she  will  know  what  to  do 
and  how  to  go.  If  she  does  not  she  will  find  out, 
for  she  is  hig  and  strong,  and  can  do  many 
things.  Mokpo,  too,  will  help  her.  lie  can  go 
many,  many  miles,  and  never  tire.” 

“Then  we  must  find  Hakta,”  said  Won-sa, 
“for  we,  too,  must  go  to  this  place  where  the 
J esus  Doctrine  is  taught.  Oh ! yes,  we  must ! 
We  cannot  wait  longer.  It  has  been  too  long 
now.  The  little  we  have  heard  makes  our  hearts 
cry  out  to  hear  more.” 

“There  is  no  doctrine  man  has  ever  taught 
that  is  like  the  Jesus  Doctrine,”  said  Mr.  San, 
and  now  he  was  speaking  to  his  son.  “There  is 
nothing  of  terror  in  it;  no  teaching  of  evil 
things.  One  has  only  to  obey  it  to  have  things 
clear  for  this  world,  and  clearer  still  for  the  one 
to  which  he  is  gone  to  await  us.  Heretofore 
those  who  taught  us  anything  held  before  us  the 
terrors  of  demons  and  of  the  soul  haunted,  even 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  215 

to  its  tomb ; or  we  were  told  of  the  forms  taken 
by  man  at  bis  death  according  to  his  behavior  in 
this  world,  the  form  of  sheep,  horse,  donkey, 
cow,  and  even  of  the  wild  animal.  What  hope, 
what  happiness  for  the  future  lay  in  such  an  ex- 
istence as  that  ? To  go  on  forever  in  this  way, 
passing  from  animal  to  animal,  with  only  the 
animal  instinct  and  nature.” 

“Terrible ! terrible !”  replied  Mr.  Chon. 
“ITow  could  we  ever  have  believed  in  such  a 
thing  ?” 

“Because  we  knew  no  better,  but  we  do  now. 
Be'cause  darkness  covered  our  hearts,  but  now 
the  light  has  shone  in,  thanks  to  the  one  who 
came  teaching.  We  know  now  that  the  soul 
came  from  God,  and  to  him  it  must  go  back 
again ; must  go  back  either  to  dwell  with  him, 
or  to  be  sent  to  eternal  punishment.” 

“And  it  is  God  who  helps  us  escape  this  pun- 
ishment, if  only  Ave  believe  in  him  and  obey 
him,”  said  Mr.  Chon. 

“Yes,  that  is  it.  If  only  we  knew  all  that  Ave 
have  to  do  and  how  we  must  do  it.  There  is 
much  yet  that  is  dark ; so  little,  after  all,  that  Ave 
have  heard.” 

“It  is  the  grace  of  him  who  is  called  Jesus,  the 
Saviour,  that  helps  us  on  the  heavenly  road,” 
said  Amnok,  her  voice  tremulous  Avith  emotion. 


216 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“Again  and  again  the  one  who  came  to  teach 
told  ns  that.  But  not  yet  have  we  learned  to 
speak  to  him  as  we  ought.  It  is  so  hard  to  under- 
stand just  where  he  is  and  how  it  is  he  hears 
when  we  do  not  see  him.  We  must  go  and  leaim 
more.” 

“That  we  must,”  said  Won-sa,  “the  very  first 
opportunity  we  have.  As  soon  as  the  child  finds 
Xakta  and  she  learns  the  way,  then  we,  too,  must 
ask  her  and  go.” 

A half  hour  later  Amnok  and  Tatong  were 
standing  at  the  door  that  looked  out  into  the 
yard  at  the  side.  The  moonlight  was  clear  and 
beautiful.  Where  it  sifted  down  through  the 
leaves  of  the  trees  it  made  a carpet-like  patch- 
work  of  shimmering  light  and  shadow.  Every 
object  in  the  yard  was  distinct.  The  whole  earth 
was  covered  with  the  loveliness,  the  glorious,  sil- 
very light. 

“How  beautiful  it  is  rip  there !”  said  Tatong, 
pointing  to  the  moon  as  it  rode  like  a great  globe 
of  light  through  the  deep,  dark  vault  of  the  sky, 
seeming  to  chase  before  it  the  silvery  stretches 
of  cloud. 

“But  it  is  more  beautiful  beyond,”  said  Am- 
nok softly.  “Oh ! child,  there  is  no  describing 
how  lovely  is  that  place  called  heaven.  lie  who 
came  to  teach  tried  to  tell  us,  but  even  he  could 
not  find  the  words.” 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


217 


‘‘The  place  where  God,  the  Father,  lives?” 
asked  Tatong  quickly. 

“The  same.  It  is  the  home,  too,  of  Jesus,  the 
gentle,  the  pitying  One,  who  came  to  die  for  us.” 
“Oh !”  cried  Tatong,  “Oh !”  and  clasping  her 
hands  against  her  breast,  “I  have  heard  of  that ! 
They  killed  him,  but  he  came  from  the  grave. 
He  had  the  power  to  do  that  and  many  things 
besides.  He  has  gone  again  to  live  with  the 
Father,  and  he  it  is  who  talks  to  the  Father  for 
us.  Oh ! madam,”  breaking  off  suddenly,  “do 
you  not  know,  will  yon  not  tell  me,  how  we  are 
to  let  him  know  when  we  want  him  to  speak  to 
God,  the  Father,  for  us  ?” 

Amnok’s  eyes  met  Tatong’s.  Those  of  the 
little  slave  were  burning  with  excitement,  her 
lips  were  parted,  her  fingers  locking  and  inter- 
locking so  deeply  was  she  excited  . 

“How  readily  would  I do  that,  if  only  I 
could,”  said  Amnok  sadly ; “but,  alas,  I know 
not  as  yet  myself.  But  I have  heard  him  who 
came  to  teach  say  that  we  are  to  talk  to  him,  the 
One  who  is  the  Saviour,  just  as  we  would  to  one 
who  is  near  us ; that  he  will  hear,  though  we  can- 
not see  him.  But  it  seems  so  strange  to  be  doing 
this  way,  and  when  no  word,  no  sound,  comes 
back  again  it  makes  the  heart  despair.  He  does 
.not  answer  me,”  continued  Amnok  more  sadly 


218 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


than  ever,  “because  I have  not  yet  learned  how 
to  talk  to  him.  I feel  s\ire  it  is  this.  Oh  ! if  only 
I did  know  how ! Bnt  I will  go  and  find  out. 
Yes,  as  soon  as  you  have  found  the  one  called 
Xakta.  I will  beg  her  to  show  me  the  way.  Oh! 
I must  know !” 

“Then  you  will  tell  me,  will  you  not  ?”  asked 
Tatong  wistfully. 

“You  may  find  out  before  I do,”  said  Amnok, 
“but  if  you  do  not,  then  I will  tell  you ; yes,  that 
I will.  Oh!  it  is  so  beautiful,  this  Jesus  Doc- 
trine,” she  continued,  “and  all  about  it  is  so  won- 
derful to  know.  But  the  most  wonderful  of  all 
is  that  he  cares  for  women ; that  he  has  said  that 
they,  too,  may  learn  the  doctrine  and  receive  the 
reward  for  well-doing  just  the  same  as  men. 
Ought  not  every  woman  to  love  that  doctrine  ? 
Ought  not  every  woman  to  do  all  in  her  power  to 
learn  it  ? I will ! I will ! There  is  nothing 
that  shall  keep  me  from  going  to  learn  more  as 
soon  as  I find  the  way.” 

Then  she  seemed  to  come  back  to  her  surround- 
ings. She  laid  her  hand  gently  upon  Tatong. 
The  little  slave  felt  its  touch  under  her  clothing. 
The  flesh  grew  warm  there,  her  heart  began  to 
beat  faster,  then  faster. 

“It  is  chill  here,”  said  Amnok,  “let  us  go  in.” 

She  turned  aside  into  the  kitchen  for  a mo- 


Tatoncj,  the  Little  Slave. 


219 


ment  or  so,  but  she  told  Tatong  to  go  straight  on 
into  the  apartment  where  she  and  Won-sa  slept. 
The  old  woman  was  already  there.  She  was  pre- 
paring to  lay  herself  down  upon  her  straw  mat. 
She  looked  up  as  Tatong  entered.  The  light  was 
not  very  bright  in  the  room,  hut  it  was  suffi- 
ciently so  to  show  objects  with  much  degree  of 
distinctness.  The  old  woman  glanced  straight  at 
Tatong. 

“I  see  you  have  come  at  last  to  bed,  Amnok. 
What  have  you  done  with  the  girl  ?” 

“It  is  not  Amnok,”  said  Tatong.  “It  is  I,  the 
slave.” 

As  she  spoke  she  came  nearer.  Her  face  was 
now  in  the  circle  of  light. 

The  old  woman  uttered  an  exclamation,  then 
she  murmured, 

“The  face  troubles  me ! Yes,  it  troubles  me  ! 
What  can  it  mean  ?” 

Even  after  she  had  placed  her  head  upon  the 
straw  pillow  and  was  almost  asleep  she  kept  mut- 
tering, 

“It  is  like — well,  what  is  it  like  ? I must 
know.  I must  remember.  I will.  I will  ask 
questions.” 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


Lsr  the  Shelter  of  the  Beautiful  Place. 


ARLY  tlie  next  morning,  as  Tatong  had 


gone  into  the  yard  to  carry  some  scraps 
for  Kijun,  Won-sa  and  Amnok,  who  were  en- 
gaged in  domestic  duty  near  at  hand,  heard  a 
sudden,  glad  cry  from  her.  The  next  moment 
she  ran  in,  her  manner  excited,  her  eyes  shining, 
while  she  gasped  forth  the  words, 

“Xakta  ! Yes,  Xakta  and  Mokpo ! Come  and 


The  old  woman  and  her  daughter  went  quickly 
without,  then  turned  toward  the  direction  indi- 
cated by  Tatong.  Yes,  there  was  a great  ox 
coming  slowly  down  the  hill,  a wonderful  pavil- 
ion on  his  back,  and  in  the  pavilion  a woman, 
whose  head  was  hound  by  a gay  handkerchief  of 
red  and  yellow. 

“Xakta  !”  said  Tatong  again.  “It  is  Xakta  !” 

Then  she  went  toward  the  palings,  passed  out 
through  the  opening,  and  stood  in  the  road. 

The  big  ox  came  on  slowly.  Xeither  he  nor 
his  mistress  seemed  to  he  in  a hurry.  Xakta’ s 
face,  which  had  been  held  upward  a few  mo- 


see. 


220 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


221 


ments  ago,  was  now  bent  down  toward  some- 
thing with  which  she  was  occupied.  Thus  she 
did  not  see  Tatong  until  she  was  almost  opposite 
the  opening.  When  she  did  so,  an  exclamation 
escaped  her.  She  spoke  to  the  ox,  and  he  stopped 
almost  instantly. 

“The  little  slave!”  exclaimed  Hakta.  “IIow 
did  you  come  here,  young  one  ?” 

“I  came  to  hunt  you,”  said  Tatong  at  once,  and 
drawing  near  to  Mokpo’s  glossy  side,  “but  Oh ! 
it  was  such  a long  way  I thought  I never  would 
find  you ! I got  lost  and  wandered  about.  Even 
Kijun  could  not  help  me ; so  in  the  dark  we  came 
here.  Oh  ! they  have  been  so  good  !”  indicating 
Won-sa  and  Amnok,  who  had  now  drawn  near. 

Eakta  looked  at  them  and  spoke. 

“They  let  me  stay,”  continued  Tatong,  “or  I 
should  have  had  to  go  on,  on  in  the  darkness,  and 
there  might  have  been  wild  beasts  to  tear  me.” 

“Biit  I told  you  the  way,”  said  Hakta.  “Do 
you  not  remember  ? It  was  very  clear,  I 
thought.” 

“I  could  not  get  it  all.  There  was  so  much. 
It  was  the  chestnut  trees  on  the  hill  that 
troubled  me.  I could  not  find  them.” 

“They  are  only  a little  further  on,”  said 
Hakta,  “but  down  toward  the  other  side  of  the 
hill.  That  is  why  you  could  not  find  them.  You 


222  Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

took  tlie  wrong  turning.  Had  you  gone  the 
other  way,  you  would  have  found  Hakta  and 
Mokpo.  It  is  but  an  hour’s  journey  from  here. 
Hakta  but  seldom  comes  this  road,”  she  added. 
“The  other  is  the  nearer  and  the  better.  But 
to-day  there  was  a woman  on  the  way  I wanted 
to  see.”  She  stopped,  then,  changing  her  tone, 
asked,  “Idas  it  been  even  worse  with  you,  poor 
thing,  that  you  have  felt  obliged  to  come  as 
ISTakta  advised  ?” 

“Yes,”  replied  Tatong,  her  voice  quivering, 
“they  were  going  to  sell  me,  and  to  one  who  was 
even  more  cruel  than  they.  I could  not  bear  it, 
so  in  the  night  I slipped  away.  They  came  near 
finding  me  again,  for  the  next  morning,  as  I 
was  coming  from  the  Marble  Pagoda,  where  I 
had  stayed  that  night,  I saw  the  two  sons  of  Mr. 
Xi.  They  were  on  the  street  and  looking  for 
me.  How  frightened  I was ! I crept  between 
the  huts  and  stayed  there  until  they  had 
gone.” 

“And  you  have  really  come  to  hunt  for  Xakta, 
for  Xakta  and  Mokpo  ?”  asked  the  woman  again, 
her  eyes  fixed  with  a pleased  expression  on  Ta- 
tong. “You  have  come  because  you  felt  you 
could  trust  them  ?” 

“Oh  ! yes,”  said  Tatong,  “I  can  ! I know  I can  !” 

“You  never  shall  have  cause  to  regret  that!” 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  223 

declared  ISTakta,  her  eyes  shining.  Then  she  bent 
toward  Tatong. 

“Bnt  I am  going  away  from  home  to-day. 
What  shall  we  do  about  that  ? Can  you  not  stay 
here  till  ISTakta  and  Mokpo  come  back?  She  is 
yonder,”  nodding  her  head  in  the  direction  of 
the  hill  along  which  she  had  come.  “She  might 
not  do  right  unless  ISTakta  were  there.” 

Tatong  knew  very  well  whom  ISTakta  meant. 
It  was  the  old  woman  with  whom  she  had  al- 
ready had  the  encounters  that  had  filled  her 
with  such  terror.  Ho;  she  could  not  go  on  to 
Hakta’s  home  and  be  with  old  Kimri.  She  felt 
ready  to  cry,  but  ISTakta  continued. 

“I  am  going  to  the  city,  but  I shall  be  hack  in 
two  days  more.” 

“Oh!”  cried  Tatong,  “oh!”  and  swayed  her 
body  back  and  forth  in  her  excitement,  “that  is 
the  very  thing  that  I want ! It  was  to  hunt  the 
kind  one  that  I had  come  to  seek  you ; to  beg 
you  to  help  me.  Don’t  you  remember  I told  you 
about  him,  how  good  he  was,  of  the  many  beauti- 
ful things  he  said?  It  was  he  who  told  me  of 
God,  the  Bather.  I want  to  find  him.  I want 
to  hear  more  that  he  has  to  say.  I tried  my- 
self, but  could  not.  I wandered  about  in  the 
darkness.  I asked  many,  but  no  one  knew.  And 
he  has  been  hurt,  too ! That  is  why  I long  the 


224 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


more  to  find  him,  that  I may  tell  him  how  sorry 
I am.  How  conld  they  have  hurt  him  when  he  is 
so  good  and  kind.  Oh  !”  reaching  her  arms  up  to 
Hakta,  “if  you  will  only  take  me  to  the  place 
where  the  kind  one  is,  to  the  place  where  there  is 
always  talk  of  God,  the  Father,  and  the  Tender 
One,  his  Son,  who  came  to  die  !” 

Tatong,  in  her  excitement,  spoke  rapidly,  hut 
even  if  she  had  caught  all  the  words  Xakta 
would  not  have  fully  understood.  It  was  true 
that  she  had  more  than  once  recalled  the  con- 
versation with  Tatong  on  that  evening  when 
they  walked  toward  the  dwelling  of  Mr.  Xi, 
Mokpo  hearing  the  burden  of  clothes.  It  was  all 
so  strange  what  the  little  slave  had  told,  what 
she  had  then  heard  for  the  first  time,  of  the 
Wonderful  One,  who  was  called  God,  the 
Father.  He  was  not  only  kind,  hut  he  was 
mighty,  for  he  had  made  both  heaven  and  earth. 
One  thing  Xakta  remembered  more  distinctly 
than  aught  else,  and  that  was  that  God,  the 
Father,  cared  for  women  as  well  as  men.  She 
had  thought  again  and  again  of  what  a joyful 
thing  that  Avas.  If  only  it  could  he  true.  But 
now  she  looked  in  perplexity  from  Tatong  to 
Won-sa  and  Amnok,  and  from  them  hack  to  Ta- 
tong again. 

The  gentle  Amnok  drew  near.  She  raised  her 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


225 


sweet  face  to  that  of  Mokpo’s  mistress,  and  be- 
gan to  speak  in  the  most  musical  voice  Hakta 
had  ever  heard. 

“The  poor  child  is  much  excited.  Her  heart 
is  so  full  of  what  she  would  say  it  runs  like  a 
stream  from  her  lips.  There  is  one  in  the  city 
she  would  find  if  she  could.  He  has  been  so  good 
to  her.  She  calls  him  the  kind  stranger.  He  has 
not  only  been  good,  but  he  has  told  her  of  so 
much  that  is  beautiful;  for  one  thing,  of  God, 
the  F ather,  of  whom  we  also  have  heard,”  added 
Amnok  with  reverent  voice,  “and  of  Jesus,  his 
Son,  whose  sweet  doctrine  is  one  all  peace  and 
love.” 

“You,  too,  know  of  God,  the  Father!”  ex- 
claimed Nakta,  her  eyes  glowing.  “Can  it  then 
be  really  true  ? I have  thought  perhaps,”  nod- 
ding toward  Tatong,  “that  she  was  only  dream- 
ing. It  seemed  too  wonderful  to  believe  that  one 
so  good  and  great  could  care  for  so  low  a thing  as 
woman.” 

“lie  does  care,”  replied  Amnok,  her  eyes 
growing  misty.  “That  is  the  most  beautiful 
part,  that  he  should  care.  He  has  said  that  he  is 
not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  not  even 
women.” 

“He  cares  as  much  for  me  with  my  old  and 
wrinkled  face,”  declared  Won-sa  with  deep  feel- 


226 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


ing  as  she,  too,  drew  near,  “as  he  does  for  you 
two  with  your  younger  and  fresher  ones,  or  even 
for  that  sweet  child  there.  When  we  first  heard 
it,  like  you,  we  thought  it  too  good  to  he  true ; 
hut  now  we  know  that  it  is.  We  can  no  longer 
doubt  it,  for  one  has  come  teaching  us  who  has 
shown  us  that  it  is  true ; and  he  has  read  to  us 
many  messages  from  a hook  that  is  written  in 
the  very  words  of  this  Great  One,  who  is  the 
One  God  of  heaven  and  of  earth.” 

“Oh ! will  you  not  take  me  to  find  this  good 
one,  the  kind  stranger?”  entreated  Tatong  again 
of  ISTakta.  “You  are  big  and  strong,  and  you 
know  so  much.  Mokpo,  too,  is  smart,  and  he  is 
so  ready  to  go  where  you  say.  lie  and  you  to- 
gether could  find  the  place.  I am  sure  that  you 
could.” 

“She  means  the  place  in  the  city  where  the 
-Tesus  Doctrine  is  taught,”  said  Amnok  again. 
“We  did  not  know  that  there  was  one,  hut  she 
says  that  there  is.  Oh  ! how  happy  we  have  been 
to  hear  it,  for,  since  he  who  came  teaching  went 
away,  our  hearts  have  been  starved  for  more  of 
the  sweet  and  precious  things  on  which  they  have 
fed.  If  we,  too,  could  but  find  this  place  and 
hear  again  the  beautiful  things  that  fill  us  with 
such  joy !” 

“Oh  ! if  we  only  could  !”  said  Won-sa.  “There 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  227 

would  be  nothing  too  hard  after  such  happi- 
ness.” 

Nakta  glanced  quickly  at  Amnok,  then  at 
Won-sa.  A look  of  sudden  resolution  came  over 
her  face,  there  was  more  light  in  her  eyes  than 
had  yet  been. 

“If  you  care  so  much  as  that,  you  shall  go,” 
she  declared.  “Yes,  both  of  you.  See  ! there  is 
room  here  for  four,  and  Mokpo  is  not  only  the 
strongest,  hut  the  most  patient  of  beasts.  He  will 
carry  all  safely,  never  fear.  We  will  search  un- 
til we  have  found  this  place,  this  wonderful 
place,  to  call  even  the  name  of  which  seems  to 
make  each  one  of  you  so  happy.  We  will  never 
stop  asking  until  we  have  found  the  way.  Yes,” 
she  concluded,  looking  from  one  to  the  other, 
“not  only  the  little  slave  shall  go,  hut  you  and 
you.” 

“Do  you  really  mean  it  ?”  asked  Won-sa,  her 
withered  old  face  beaming  with  joy. 

“I  do.” 

“And  now  ?” 

“Yes,  now.” 

“Well,  come  in  then.  There  is  some  prepara- 
tion that  must  he  made,  and  I must  leave  word 
for  my  husband  and  son.  They  are  gone  for 
straw.  IIow  glad  they,  too,  will  be,  for  when  we 
have  found  the  way  we  can  show  it  to  them.” 


228 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


On  the  road  to  the  city  Xakta  told  them  that 
when  she  had  left  home  that  morning  she  had 
been  bound  partly  on  a secret  mission,  hence 
she  had  really  slipped  away  without  letting  any- 
one know.  However,  the  errand  could  now 
wait. 

Tatong  understood  her  if  the  others  did  not. 
It  was  old  Kimri  she  wished  to  elude.  Later 
Xakta  told  her  that  if  they  stayed  the  day  over 
in  the  city  as  they  expected,  that  her  mother 
would  very  likely  come  seeking  her.  She  had 
her  own  mode  of  conveyance,  and  knew  how  to 
take  care  of  herself. 

“Oh ! will  she  not  do  something  dreadful  ?” 
asked  Tatong.  Even  at  this  distance  from  old 
Kimri  she  felt  the  fear  of  her  return. 

“She  will  only  let  her  eyes  blaze,”  replied 
Xakta,  “and  litter  cries  and  make  threats.  But 
that  cannot  be  helped,  and  this  must  he  done.” 

It  lacked  only  a short  time  of  the  closing  of 
the  gates  when  they  reached  the  wall  of  the 
city.  Though  Mokpo  was  stout  and  willing,  the 
load  had  been  heavy,  and  his  mistress  had  stop- 
ped him  several  times  to  rest  him. 

On  entering  the  city  they  spent  an  hour  or 
more  going  from  one  narrow  street  to  another, 
and  asking  such  questions  as  they  thought  safe. 
At  length,  discouraged  because  they  had  met 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


229 


with  no  better  success,  they  decided  to  spend  the 
night  with  a friend  of  Hakta,  and  early  on  the 
following  morning  renew  the  search.  Surely 
some  one  could  then  be  found  who  could  direct 
them  to  that  precious  place  which  every  heart, 
even  Hakta’s,  was  now  longing  to  find. 

They  had  not  more  than  started  out  on  the 
following  morning,  when  a quick  exclamation 
from  Tatong  attracted  the  others. 

“It  is  he ! it  is  he !”  she  cried.  “Look ! 
Look !” 

They  followed  the  direction  indicated.  A 
youth  was  coming  along  the  street  at  quick  pace, 
his  head  well  up,  his  hat  pushed  back.  Lie  was 
now  very  near  them  and  they  could  see  his  face 
plainly.  It  was  a fine  face,  bright  and  prepos- 
sessing. He  carried  himself,  too,  with  ease  and 
grace,  while  his  dress,  somewhat  different  from 
that  of  other  youths  about  him,  was  spotlessly 
clean  and  well  made. 

“It  is  he !”  said  Tatong  again,  “the  son  of  the 
kind  one.  Oh!  call  to  him,”  she  entreated  of 
Hakta.  “My  tongue  is  so  weak  because  of  what 
I see,  he  will  not  hear  me.” 

ISTakta  hesitated. 

“But  will  not  he  ? — ” she  began. 

“Oh  ! he  is  not  like  the  others,”  Tatong  assured 
her.  “He  will  not  mind.  Call  to  him.  Do  not 


230 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


let  liim  go ! He  knows  the  way  to  the  beautiful 
place.  He  will  show  us.  Oh  ! to  think  that  after 
all  we  are  to  find  it ! the  place  where  the  kind 
one  is,  where  all  the  beautiful  things  are  told !” 

Kitze  was  by  this  time  very  nearly  opposite 
to  them.  As  the  street  was  narrow,  he  could  al- 
most have  reached  out  and  touched  Mokpo’s 
great,  glossy  side.  But  he  was  going  on  without 
noticing,  when  Hakta’s  call  arrested  him.  He 
turned  quickly,  and  was  much  surprised  when 
he  saw  her  beckoning  to  him.  He  approached, 
and,  standing  almost  beside  Mokpo,  looked  up 
at  them,  his  face  full  of  enquiry  as  well  as  sur- 
prise. Ere  Hakta  could  speak  he  had  recog- 
nized Tatong,  and  was  giving  her  a smile  of 
greeting.  Her  tongue  was  unlocked  now.  The 
sight  of  his  face,  so  kind,  so  gentle,  brought  back 
the  past  to  her  in  such  vivid  manner  that  it  gave 
her  the  words  with  which  to  speak  as  well  as  the 
voice. 

“The  place  where  the  kind  one  is  and  the 
white  brother,  which  is  your  home,  too ! Will 
you  not  tell  us  where  it  is  ? Oh ! we  so  long  to 
go  to  it,  that  we  my  hear  all  the  beautiful  things 
that  are  told  there.  I tried  to  find  it  once  my- 
self. I wandered  about  in  the  night,  hut  no  one 
could  tell  me.  Then  Hakta  and  Mokpo  and  the 
others  came  to  help  me.  But  they,  too,  have 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


231 


looked  in  vain  until  now  you  are  here,  and  I 
know  will  lead  us  to  it.  Oh ! how  happy  we 
shall  be  when  we  have  found  it !” 

“If  it  is  to  the  mission  house  you  want  to  go, 
of  course  I will  show  you  the  way,”  said  Kitze. 
“It  isn’t  very  far  from  here,  only  across  five  or 
six  streets.  Just  keep  me  in  sight,”  he  added 
to  Xakta,  “for  I am  going  there  now.” 

He  started  off  briskly,  while  Mokpo,  with  long, 
stately  strides  kept  well  abreast  of  him. 

As  Xakta  turned  to  address  a remark  to  Am- 
nok  she  noticed  that  her  face  was  very  pale. 
She  was  trembling,  too,  and  her  eyes  were  burn- 
ing with  an  unusual  brightness.  At  this  moment 
they  were  fixed  closely  upon  the  form  of  Kitze 
as  he  moved  along  the  street.  Xakta  had  to 
speak  to  her  twice  ere  she  got  her  attention. 
“Are  you  sick?”  Kakta  asked  kindly. 

“Xo,”  said  Amnok,  “I  am  not  sick.  Why  do 
you  ask  ?”  Then  ere  she  had  given  Xakta  time 
to  reply,  she  added,  “The  bov ! Did  you  notice 
his  face  ? How  nobly  it  speaks  ! Whose  son  did 
you  say  he  was  ? Does  he  really  live  at  the  place 
where  the  Jesus  Doctrine  is  taught?” 

Although  Amnok  had  spoken  to  Xakta,  she 
was  nevertheless  looking  at  Tatong. 

“He  is  the  son  of  the  kind  stranger,”  replied 
Tatong,  “of  him  who  has  so  many  beautiful 


232 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


tilings  to  tell.  There  is  another  name  by  which 
they  call  him,  but  I do  not  know  it  now.” 

Again  and  again  Amnok’s  eyes  followed  the 
yonth  walking  with  such  erect  form  and  grace- 
fully poised  head  along  the  streets.  Once  she 
turned  and  said  in  a low  voice  to  AVon-sa : 

“The  face  troubles  me.  The  lad  is  a stranger, 
and  never  before  has  it  filled  my  eyes,  yet  it 
seems  to  have  been  in  my  heart.  It  is  there  now. 
I shut  my  eyes,  hut  I still  see  it.  AVliat  does  it 
mean  ?” 

“Somewhere  you  have  doubtless  seen  him,” 
said  AVon-sa,  “hut  have  forgotten  it.  Maybe  it 
was  about  the  market  places.” 

“Ho,”  said  Amnok,  “it  was  not.  You  know 
I have  not  been  to  the  markets  in  several  years, 
not  even  to  the  city  since — .” 

She  could  not  finish.  The  words  seemed  stick- 
ing in  her  throat.  Her  heart  began  to  beat  vio- 
lently. She  dropped  her  head,  her  eyes  being 
suffused  with  tears. 

“Don’t  think  of  it  now,  poor  Amnok !”  said 
AVon-sa,  her  own  voice  husky ; “think  rather  of 
the  beautiful  place  to  which  we  are  going,  of 
the  precious  things  we  are  to  hear.  The  boy  has 
said  it  is  not  far.  AVe  shall  soon  be  there.” 

They  came  shortly  to  the  mission  house. 
There  was  not  only  one  building,  but  three 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


233 


within  one  enclosure.  Everything  was  neat  and 
clean,  the  little  plot  of  ground  in  front  beauti- 
fully kept.  All  presented  such  contrast  to  the 
filth  and  squalor  they  had  but  recently  left  be- 
hind them. 

The  houses  had  roofs  of  tiling.  The  mud 
walls  had  been  covered  with  a cement  that  had 
been  smoothly  pressed  and  whitened.  . Door  and 
windows  were  of  neat  bamboo  frame  work. 
There  was  even  a tiny  pane  or  two  of  glass  fitted 
into  the  latter. 

Kitze  led  them  into  a front  apartment.  It 
seemed  to  be  the  regular  reception  room  of  the 
mission,  for  quite  a crowd  was  already  gathered 
there.  The  apartment  was  long  and  well  lighted, 
for  the  windows  were  thrown  wide  open,  and 
through  them  the  sunlight  came  in ; that  is,  as 
much  of  it  as  could  find  its  way  down  between 
the  roofs  of  the  houses.  The  ceiling  was  higher 
than  that  of  the  average  Korean  dwelling,  while 
neat,  fresh  paper  covered  the  inner  walls.  Hung 
all  about  were  beautiful  scrolls  with  illuminated 
lettering,  pressed  flowers  and  ferns  in  rustic 
framings,  groups  of  photographs,  and  one  or  two 
large  pictures  of  Bible  subjects.  There  were 
also  some  jars  in  which  freshly-cut  flowers  had 
been  placed. 

Tatong  thought  she  had  never  seen  anything 


234 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


more  beautiful.  She  held  her  breath.  Could  it 
he  that  she  was  really  awake  ? Oh ! maybe  she 
had  fallen  asleep,  and  this  was  only  a dream  of 
that  sweet  place  which  she  had  many  times  be- 
fore seen  only  in  that  way ! But  no,  it  was  all 
real,  for  there  were  Hakta,  Amnok  and  Won-sa 
sitting  beside  her,  and  all  around  were  the  stir 
and  the  murmur  of  voices  from  the  waiting 
crowd. 

Neither  the  kind  stranger  nor  the  white 
brother  had  come  in  yet.  It  was  for  them  the 
crowd  waited.  Every  morning  of  the  week  days 
at  this  hour  the  eager,  expectant  ones  gathered, 
some  come  to  enquire  for  the  first  time  concern- 
ing the  “Jesus  Doctrine,”  and  others,  having  re- 
ceived part  knowledge,  longing  for  more.  There 
were  those,  too,  who,  “filled  with  the  story,”  were 
beginning  to  tell  it  to  others. 

All  around  was  heard  the  murmur  of  voices 
of  men,  women  and  children,  and  all  were  talk- 
ing of  the  same  subject,  of  the  precious  “Jesus 
Doctrine,”  so  sweet  and  wonderful  in  every- 
thing that  it  taught. 

The  ease  and  freedom  with  which  the  men 
and  women  held  conversation  with  each  other 
struck  Kakta  with  astonishment.  She  had  never 
seen  anything  like  it  before.  And  the  men 
seemed  to  treat  the  women  not  only  with  pa- 


Tatong , the  Little  Slave.  235 

tience,  but  with  consideration,  some  times  even 
stopping  what  they  were  saying  themselves  to 
listen  to  them. 

Directly  Mr.  Ross  came  in.  His  appearance 
was  greeted  with  a little  outburst  of  delight. 
Many  arose  to  receive  him.  He  passed  a greet- 
ing to  all,  said  many  kind  and  pleasant  things 
to  individuals,  then  calling  to  him  a young  man, 
who  had  recently  graduated  at  the  Government 
School,  and  who  had  acted  as  his  assistant  since 
Mr.  Ko  had  been  ill,  began  the  usual  plan  of 
teaching  and  of  religious  service.  First  he 
asked  questions,  then  commented  upon  the  an- 
swers. After  this  was  done  he  opened  his  Testa- 
ment and  read,  the  young  man  conveying  to 
them  the  meaning.  Once,  twice,  three  times 
he  stopped  and  closed  the  hook,  but  each  time 
they  besought  him  to  go  on. 

“Don’t  stop  ! Read  more  ! read  more  !”  one 
voice  after  another  begged. 

lie  closed  the  book,  then  uttered  words,  words 
of  earnest  entreaty  to  him  whose  ear  was  in- 
clined to  hear,  to  God,  the  Father,  while  all 
about  him  the  earnest,  reverent  faces  were 
grouped.  There  was  scarce  one  who  did  not  un- 
derstand what  he  was  doing,  even  Hakta  had  a 
conception  of  it,  for,  as  he  had  begun,  Tatong 
had  leaned  over  to  press  her  hand,  while  she 
whispered  excitedly : 


236 


T 'atong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“Oh  ! he  is  talking  to  God,  the  Father.” 

The  devotions  ended,  a sweet,  clear  voice  be- 
gan a hymn  with  organ  accompaniment.  So 
busily  had  Tatong  and  her  friends  been  watch- 
ing and  listening  to  Mr.  Ross,  hanging  upon  his 
every  word,  that  they  had  not  noticed  when  his 
wife  came  in  and  took  her  place  at  the  instru- 
ment. Xow,  as  she  began  to  sing,  they  started, 
almost  with  fright,  and  turned  quickly  to  see 
whence  the  sounds  came.  ISTever  had  they  heard 
anything  like  this ! and  the  player  herself,  so 
frail  and  white,  called  forth  their  astonishment, 
then  admiration.  And  how  had  she  gotten  those 
sweet  spirits  into  the  box  ? and  what  were  the 
sounds  they  were  making  ? What  were  they  try- 
ing to  say  ? Tatong  knew  about  the  singing,  for 
she  had  heard  it  before,  so  she  tried  to  explain 
to  Xakta.  Amnok  and  Won-sa,  too,  understood 
the  singing,  for  it  was  not  new  to  them  either. 
The  missionary  who  had  gone  out  among  the 
hills  teaching  and  borne  to  them  the  gospel  story 
had  siing  for  them. 

Clear  and  tender  the  notes  rang  out  from  the 
singer  at  the  organ : 

“ I heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

‘Come  unto  me  and  rest; 

Lay  down,  thou  weary  one,  lay  down 
Thy  head  upon  my  breast.’  ” 


237 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

After  the  singing  there  was  nearly  an  hour 
spent  in  hearing  testimonies  and  the  reports  of 
those  who  had  gone  seeking  souls. 

One  man  arose,  his  face  working  with  the 
emotion  that  swayed  him,  his  eyes  moist.  He 
wanted  to  testify  as  to  the  precious  power  of  the 
“Jesus  Doctrine.”  In  his  village  the  cholera 
had  raged.  All  around  them  the  victims  had 
fallen.  The  little  band  of  Christians  had  got- 
ten together  and  prayed,  and  the  ravages  of  the 
dread  disease  had  grown  less  and  less,  then 
ceased.  He  had  come  to  praise  and  to  give 
thanks. 

A blind  woman  spoke  with  trembling  yet  fer- 
vent voice.  For  many  years  her  eyes  had  been 
sealed.  All  that  she  had  had  to  look  forward  to 
ere  the  entrance  of  the  “Jesus  Doctrine”  into 
her  heart  was  the  wandering  after  death  in 
awful  darkness  with  the  demons  and  other  ter- 
rible spirits  she  could  not  see  howling  all  about 
her  and  seeking  ever  to  torment  her.  But  now 
she  knew  that  in  the  home  of  him  wTho  had  sent 
the  doctrine,  the  light  would  come  again.  She 
would  see ! Yes,  praise  to  the  blessed  Jesus  One, 
she  would  see ! 

A small  party  of  young  men  had  come  to  re- 
ceive further  instruction,  then  to  scatter,  each  to 
his  own  village,  to  tell  many  eager,  waiting  ones 


238 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


what  they  had  heard.  Oh ! how  many  there 
were  anxious  to  hear,  waiting  for  the  entrance 
of  the  precious  words  that  gave  light ! Every- 
where they  went  carrying  the  joyous  tidings  there 
were  those  who  begged  for  more,  always  more. 

One  gave  testimony  who  had  suffered  cruelly 
for  the  doctrine’s  sake.  He  had  been  perse- 
cuted, driven  from  place  to  place,  spit  upon, 
beaten,  and  once  left  for  dead.  But  his  wounds 
had  healed  now,  and  he  was  ready,  nay,  anxious 
to  go  back  again.  “I  want  to  tell  even  my  ene- 
mies,” he  said,  “of  the  peace  that  is  in  the  'doc- 
trine.’ I want  them  to  share  with  me.” 

For  one  and  all  the  missionary  had  words  of 
helpfulness  or  of  commendation.  He  told  them 
of  his  gladness  of  heart  that  so  many  had  stood 
steadfast  in  the  faith.  He  encouraged  them  to 
still  more  zealous  effort,  and  finally  dismissed 
them  by  invoking  on  them  the  blessing  of  the 
God  they  had  gathered  to  serve. 

Hakta,  Amnok,  Won-sa  and  Tatong  had  lis- 
tened from  beginning  to  end  with  varied  emo- 
tions struggling  in  the  heart  of  each.  To  Hakta 
it  was  all  so  new,  strange,  indescribable,  yet  it 
left  a peace,  a gladness,  an  enkindling  of  hope  in 
her  heart  it  had  never  known  before.  Oh ! she 
must  learn  more ! She  must  come  again  to  this 
beautiful  place,  where  there  were  only  kind 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  239 

ways  and  gentle  faces,  and  such  words  spoken  as 
it  made  the  very  blood  tingle  to  hear. 

To  Amnok  and  Won-sa  it  all  sounded  as  the 
same  sweet  old  story,  yet  a story  of  which  they 
could  never  tire.  How  it  rejoiced  them  to  hear 
it  again  ! But  the  recitals  of  those  who  had  suf- 
fered for  the  gospel’s  sake  reached  a depth  in 
their  hearts  never  stirred  before.  How  strong  as 
well  as  tender  this  “Jesus  Doctrine”  could  make 
one  who  believed  in  it ! 

They  lingered  after  the  others  had  gone  away. 
It  was  for  Tatong’s  sake  they  remained  now. 
They  knew  the  errand  on  which  the  little  slave 
had  come.  How  full  her  heart  was  of  it ! How 
she  longed  to  see  the  one  whom  she  believed  of 
all  others  woidd  rescue  her.  Tatong  had  at  last 
talked  freely  to  Amnok  and  Won-sa.  She  had 
told  them  all.  Both  had  expressed  the  deepest 
pity  for  her ; but  with  Amnolc’s  pity  there  had 
been  mingled  something  else,  a tenderness,  a 
yearning  she  could  not  describe.  If  they  had 
not  been  so  poor,  how  gladly  would  she  have 
paid  the  money  for  the  little  slave  and  kept  her 
for  all  her  own.  It  hurt  her  that  she  could  not, 
that  another  must  do  it.  She  tried  to  persuade 
Tatong  to  go  back  and  live  with  them  as  long  as 
she  cared  to,  months,  years,  if  she  woidd.  They 
were  poor,  hut  there  was  enough  for  her,  and  in 


24:0 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


return  she  could  do  them  many  helpful  ser- 
vices. But  as  much  as  Tatong  felt  herself  drawn 
to  Amnok,  as  deep  as  was  the  feeling  that  made 
her  heart  throb  at  sound  of  her  voice  or  touch 
of  her  hand,  there  was  ever  the  fear  that  if  she 
went  back  Mr.  Xi  or  his  sons  would  sometime 
come  to  claim  her,  and  if  there  was  no  money  to 
pay  for  her,  would  they  not  still  do  the  cruel 
thing  they  had  planned  { Xo;  she  must  see  the 
kind  one ; she  must  ask  him  to  have  pity  on  her, 
to  help  her,  for  Oh ! he  surely  would ! Had  he 
not  said  such  words  to  her  as  made  her  feel  he 
would  do  it  ? Was  it  not  for  this  she  had  had 
the  courage  to  come  hack  to  the  city,  though  fear- 
ing at  any  moment  the  Xi's  might  discover 
her  ? 

Ivitze  had  told  Air.  Boss  that  Tatong  had  come 
specially  to  see  his  father ; so,  when  the  services 
were  over,  the  missionary  went  at  once  to  the 
little  group  composed  of  Amnok,  AVon-sa,  Xakta 
and  Tatong.  He  not  only  showed  them  how 
glad  he  was  that  they  had  come,  hut  he  brought 
his  wife,  too,  to  greet  them. 

He  told  Tatong  that  the  kind  one  was  now 
getting  well  of  his  wounds.  He  had  been  sit- 
ting up  for  some  days,  hut  he  was  not  strong 
enough  as  yet  to  again  take  part  in  the  teach- 
ing, so  this  was  why  he  had  not  been  in  the 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  '2,4:1 

room.  She  might  go  now  to  see  him  if  she 
wished.  Her  friends  would  wait  for  her. 

Mr.  Ivo  was  sitting  by  one  of  the  windows. 
There  was  a book  on  his  knee.  As  Tatong  came 
near  she  saw  that  it  was  one  like  that  from  which 
the  white  brother  had  read.  His  face  still 
showed  traces  of  the  suffering  through  which  he 
had  been,  and  there  was  a small  bandage  across 
one  of  the  wounds  that  had  not  healed. 

He  looked  up  as  Tatong  approached  and 
smiled.  He  even  called  her  by  her  name.  The 
blood  rushed  in  a great  wave  of  joy  through  her 
veins.  He  had  not  forgotten  her  ! 

“How  are  you,  little  one  ?”  he  asked,  as  she 
raised  her  eyes,  timid,  yet  shining  to  his. 

“O  sir,  I am  very  well,  but  I am  in  much 
trouble,  and  I have  come  to  you.  Oh ! pity  me 
if  it  is  wrong.” 

“It  is  not  wrong,  my  child,  when  one  is  in 
trouble  to  go  to  another  who  can  help.  What  is 
the  trouble  ? Do  not  fear  to  tell  me.” 

“Those  with  whom  I lived,  who  have  been  so 
hard  to  me,  are  going  away,  and,  as  they  do  not 
care  to  take  me,  they  have  made  the  plan  to  sell 
me,  and  O sir,  it  is  to  one  who  is  even  more 
cruel,  one  old  and  dreadful.” 

She  began  to  sob  now.  The  woes  through 
which  she  had  gone,  the  peril  that  threatened, 
all  had  come  back  so  vividly. 


242 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


He  reached  out  his  hand  and  laid  it  soothingly 
upon  her  shoulder. 

‘‘Don’t  cry,  poor  little  one ! We  will  do  all 
we  can.  I and  the  white  brother.  You  will  stay 
here,  and  when  they  come — well,  they  shall  not 
take  you.  Let  that  promise  stop  your  tears. 
You  may  go  now  and  tell  your  friends ; but, 
wait,  I will  go  with  you.” 

At  last,  at  last  she  was  to  be  free ! and  made 
so  by  the  kind  one  ! Oh  ! the  joy  of  it ! Would 
not  her  heart  quite  beat  itself  away  if  it  kept  on 
as  it  was  going?  But  in  the  midst  of  it  there 
came  the  thought  of  Amnok,  of  Amnok,  the 
sweet,  the  gentle,  the  kind.  She  was  not  to  go 
back  with  Amnok.  Perhaps  she  would  never  see 
her  again.  Tatong  put  her  hand  to  her  throat. 
There  was  such  a strange  feeling  there. 

Mr.  Ross,  as  soon  as  he  had  gnided  Tatong  to 
Mr.  Ko,  had  returned  to  the  front  apartment, 
and  was  now  earnestly  engaged,  with  the  young 
man’s  help,  in  conversation  with  Amnok,  Won-sa 
and  ISTakta. 

Mr.  Ivo  approached  slowly,  beside  him  Ta- 
tong, happy  beyond  words  to  describe  when  she 
remembered  what  he  had  promised  her,  but  sad, 
too,  as  she  thought  of  Amnok.  How  was  she  to 
part  from  Amnok  ? 

They  reached  the  door  leading  into  the  front 
apartment.  Mr.  Ko  passed  in  first. 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  243 

‘‘The  poor  child  is  in  sore  straits,”  he  began, 
speaking  to  Mr.  Ross,  “and  I have  promised 
her—.” 

But  here  he  stopped,  the  words  died  upon  his 
lips,  a pallor  overspread  his  face ; he  threw  his 
hand  out  quickly  to  lean  against  the  door  fram- 
ing for  support. 

At  the  first  sight  of  him  Amnok  had  arisen, 
a cry  broke  from  her,  but  now  she  stood  motion- 
less as  though  transfixed.  The  only  sound  was 
from  her  breathing,  which  came  quick  and  hard. 

“It  is  she  !”  cried  Mr.  Ko.  “Oh,  Amnok !” 

Then  he  stretched  out  his  hands  to  her,  but  she 
still  stood  without  movement.  It  was  doubtless 
that  she  had  not  the  power  to  move. 

“I  do  not  wonder  that  you  come  not.  Oh ! 
Amnok,  I was  hard,  cruel,  but  all  is  changed 
now.”  He  dropped  his  head  for  a moment  upon 
his  breast,  then  he  raised  it,  and  fastened  his 
eyes  upon  Mr.  Ross,  while  he  said, 

“Standing  there  is  the  wife,  the  lost  one  of 
whom  I have  told  you.  Oh ! plead  with  her  for 
me !” 


CONCLUSION. 


Astonished,  touched,  Mr.  Ross  drew 

near.  He  had  heard  the  sad  story  of  Mr. 
Ko’s  ]ife,  and  from  Mr.  Ivo  himself,  how  he  had 
been  parted  from  the  wife  he  deeply  loved,  a 
young  woman  of  rare  gifts  of  manner  and  of 
character,  parted  through  misrepresentations, 
the  plotting  of  another.  This  was  an  old  woman, 
a friend  of  Amnok’s  mother.  She  came  often 
to  the  house.  She  showed  him  proofs  of  what 
she  stated,  or,  at  least,  so  he  thought  them  then 
in  his  pride  and  anger.  She  got  others,  too,  to 
tell  him  things  about  Amnok.  She  loved  him, 
her  husband,  no  more.  She  had  declared  it  again 
and  again,  and  she  had  often  said  she  wished 
that  she  could  be  free.  Afterwards,  when  he 
learned  how  she  had  been  wronged,  that  she  was 
innocent,  his  grief  was  hitter,  and  he  resolved  to 
atone  to  the  fullest.  But  it  was  too  late.  Amnok 
had  gone  away  with  her  father  and  mother,  and, 
though  he  had  searched  for  her  faithfully  ever 
since,  he  had  never  found  her  until  to-day. 
Greater  had  grown  the  desire  to  find  her,  deeper 
and  deeper  his  repentance  for  the  past,  after  the 
teachings  of  the  “Jesus  Doctrine”  had  entered 
244 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave.  245 

his  heart.  How  more  than  ever  he  realized  how 
cruel  he  had  been.  He  had  taken  their  child 
away,  their  oldest  born,  a bright  boy  of  two  and 
a half  years,  who  had  more  than  ever  wrapped 
himself  about  the  mother’s  heart  since  the 
strange  disappearance  of  the  other  child,  a little 
girl  of  five  or  six  months,  who  had  never  been 
found. 

Yes,  at  last  he  had  found  Amnok,  his  wrife, 
his  lost  one,  she  who  had  been  so  cruelly 
wronged.  He  loved  her  more  than  ever.  Oh ! 
how  it  pierced  his  heart  that  she  could  not  for- 
give him,  that  she  would  not  come  to  him ! 
But  he  did  not  blame  her. 

Mr.  Ross  approached  Amnok.  He  saw  with 
keener  eye  than  did  the  husband,  so  unstrung 
through  the  suddenness  of  the  shock  and  by  his 
grief. 

Amnok  did  not  move,  she  did  not  speak  be- 
cause she  coidd  not.  Joy  at  sight  of  him,  all  the 
events  of  the  past  rushing  over  her  in  a great 
wave  of  remembrance  had  completely  over- 
whelmed her.  She  longed  to  go  to  him,  but  she 
could  not.  Her  lips  were  burning  to  speak  his 
name,  but  they  would  not  open. 

Mr.  Ross  placed  his  hand  upon  hers ; he  com- 
pelled her  to  look  at  him,  gentleness,  persuasion 
were  in  his  voice. 


246 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


“He  is  pleading  with  you,”  he  said,  pointing 
to  Mr.  Ko.  “His  heart  is  all  broken  over  the 
past.  Will  you  not  go  to  him  ?” 

Though  she  could  not  understand  the  words, 
yet  Amnok  caught  the  meaning.  But  it  was  the 
touch  more  than  anything  else  that  aroused  her. 
It  seemed  to  be  just  what  she  needed  to  awaken 
her  from  the  lethargy.  Consciousness,  move- 
ment returned.  She  pressed  forward  and  threw 
herself  at  her  husband’s  feet,  murmuring  his 
name. 

He  stooped,  raised  her,  and  pressed  her  to  his 
heart,  while  his  tears  fell  fast  upon  her  head. 

Varied  had  been  the  emotions  with  which  the 
others  had  looked  upon  the  scene:  Hakta  with 
astonishment,  Won-sa  at  first  in  indignation  at 
sight  of  her  faithless  son-in-law,  then  with  re- 
lief, happiness  when  she  saw  how  it  was  going 
to  end;  hut  to  Tatong  the  most  acute  joy  came. 
Oh ! now  she  would  not  have  to  leave  Amnok ! 
She  belonged  to  the  kind  one,  and  he  would  not 
let  her  go.  And  had  he  not  promised  to  keep 
her,  too,  the  poor  little  slave  ? 

Mr.  Ko  still  remained  standing  with  his  arm 
about  his  wife.  It  seemed  he  could  never  let 
her  go.  At  that  moment  there  was  a noise  with- 
out. The  old  man  who  kept  the  gate  seemed  to 
be  remonstrating  with  some  one.  Suddenly 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


247 


there  came  an  exclamation  of  rage,  then  words 
of  defiance,  that  caused  the  others  to  look  around 
and  Kakta  to  start  quickly  to  the  door.  But  ere 
she  reached  it  a form  appeared  in  the  opening, 
and  the  next  moment  old  Kimri  stood  before 
them. 

“O  yes!”  she  cried  to  Kakta,  “O  yes!  you 
thought  to  get  away  from  me,  hut  I have  found 
you.  I met  one  who  saw  you,  and  he  showed 
me  the  way.  I want  to  know  now  why  you  have 
come  here  and  what  place  this  is.  You  thought 
to  keep  it  from  me,  but  you  haven’t.  Speak,  I 
tell  you !” 

Ere  ISTakta  could  reply  Kimri’ s eyes,  sweep- 
ing the  room  with  their  hawk-like  gaze,  had 
fastened  upon  Mr.  Ko  and  Amnok.  Astonish- 
ment, dismay,  hate,  each  showed  itself  upon  her 
repulsive  face. 

“Together  !”  she  said,  “together  !”  and  flew  at 
Amnok  as  though  she  would  tear  her  away  from 
the  arms  that  were  about  her. 

Mr.  Boss  caught  her. 

“You  must  do  no  violence,”  he  said,  making 
gestures  to  her  as  he  spoke.  “Why  are  you  so 
angry  ? and  why  do  you  wish  to  hurt  an- 
other ?” 

“It  is  she,”  spoke  up  Mr.  Ko.  “It  is  the  one 
who  injured  us.  Listen  to  me,  Kimri.  I have 


248 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


long  since  found  out  that  all  you  told  me  was 
false ; that  your  heart  was  wickedness,  black- 
ness itself.  I have  been  restored  to  the  loved 
one  of  whom  you  deprived  me.  You  can  do  us 
no  further  hurt.  I forgive  you,  though  the  God, 
whom  I have  learned  to  serve,  knows  how  hard 
it  is.  Go  in  peace,  poor  wretched  sinner.” 

“Xo,  I can’t  hurt  you  further,”  almost 
screamed  old  Kimri,  “neither  one  of  you  now 
that  you  are  together,  for  you  will  watch  like  the 
hawk  and  she  like  the  tigress  whose  young  are 
threatened.  But  ha  ! how  I have  made  her  suffer 
in  the  past ! Even  more  than  you,  for  men’s 
hearts  are  not  like  women’s.  There  isn’t  so 
much  of  them  with  which  to  feel.  It  was  her 
face  that  did  it.  I wanted  to  know  that  one  of 
her  kind  could  suffer  the  same  as  Kimri.  I 
made  here  suffer,  too,  in  another  way.  I took 
away  the  brat  with  face  like  hers.  I threw  it 
where  the  wild  beasts  could  devour  it.  Think  of 
their  feeding  on  such  fine  flesh  as  that ! But 
they  didn’t,”  she  continued,  now  almost  sav- 
agely. “One  came  who  took  her  away.  I have 
since  learned  all  about  it.  He  kept  her  for  his 
slave;  he  sold  her  to  another  for  the  same  pur- 
pose. Ha  ! think  of  the  child  of  the  fine  Amnok, 
Amnok  of  the  lady-like  ways  and  beautiful  face, 
being  brought  up  as  a slave ! And  no  slave  could 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


249 


have  had  a harder  time,  beaten,  starved  as  she 
has  been  by  the  family  of  the  weaver,  Mr.  Ki.” 

From  the  way  she  caught  herself  and  tried  to 
go  on  with  something  else  it  was  evident  that 
Kimri  had  not  intended  to  utter  the  name.  But 
she  had,  and  more  than  one  pair  of  ears  had 
heard  it. 

With  a little  cry  Tatong  sprang  forward,  her 
eyes  burning,  her  hands  extended  toward  Mr.  Ko 
and  Amnok.  Then,  seemingly  overcome  by  the 
thought  of  what  she  had  intended  to  do,  stopped, 
trembling. 

For  the  first  time  old  Kimri  saw  her,  for  until 
now  she  had  been  partly  shut  from  view  behind 
Nakta. 

“Little  beast  !”  she  cried,  and  started  toward 
her,  her  hideous  old  face  working  with  hatred. 

But  Won-sa  interfered.  She  came  between 
Tatong  and  the  advancing  Kimri  and  extended 
her  hand  threateningly. 

“Keep  away !”  she  said.  “You  have  worked 
trouble  enough  already.”  Then  to  Amnok,  “I 
see  it  plainly.  Kow  I know  why  the  face 
troubled  me.  It  was  like  yours.  Once  I took 
her  for  you.  Amnok,  your  longdost  child  is  be- 
fore you.” 

“My  child  ?”  questioned  Amnok,  then  seemed 
about  to  faint,  but  her  husband’s  arm  still  sup- 


250 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


ported  her.  “Oh,  can  it  be  ? Yes,  I see  that  it 
is.  I can  no  longer  doubt.  Even  before  I knew 
the  truth  my  heart  was  strangely  moved  to  her.” 

Quickly  were  Amnok’s  arms  around  Tatong, 
and  their  sobs  mingled,  while  over  them  stood 
Mr.  Ivo  ready,  too,  to  take  his  long-lost  child  to 
his  heart  as  soon  as  her  mother  released  her. 
The  others  stood  by  with  misty  eyes.  As  to  old 
Kimri,  with  a cry  of  rage  she  disappeared,  and 
none  of  them,  not  even  Xakta,  ever  saw  her 
again.  Bnt  as  her  mother  had  given  her  away 
when  a helpless  child  because  of  the  rage  she 
felt  for  the  way  her  husband  had  abandoned 
her,  and  had  only  gone  hack  to  her  when  Xakta 
had  married  and  had  a home,  there  could  be  lit- 
tle real  affection  or  regret  on  Xakta’s  part. 

At  last  the  little  slave  had  found  not  only  her 
earthly  father,  but  also  her  mother,  and  Oh  ! the 
joy  of  it ! Xever  again  would  there  be  blows 
and  hunger  and  cruelty,  but  instead  love  and 
happiness  and  the  shelter  of  the  beautiful  place, 
where  always  she  could  hear  of  the  other  Father 
who  loved  her  with  even  greater  love,  and  whose 
hand  had  prepared  such  joys  in  the  home  above 
as  earthly  eye  had  not  seen  or  earthly  heart 
tasted. 

There  was  still  another  child  to  be  welcomed 
to  Amnok’s  heart,  Ivitze  the  manly,  wdio,  al- 


251 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 

though,  it  was  in  Korea,  was  not  ashamed  to 
have  her  arms  about  him,  but  instead  was  filled 
with  gladness  as  he  laid  his  head  against  her. 

Won-sa,  accompanied  by  Kakta,  hastened 
home  to  carry  the  glad  news.  Soon  in  a neat 
dwelling  not  far  from  the  mission  house  Am- 
nok’s  mother,  father,  and  brother  were  estab- 
lished. Xow  they  could  come  daily  to  hear  the 
sweet  teachings  of  the  “Jesus  Doctrine.”  Their 
hearts  desired  no  more.  In  time  Xakta  came, 
too,  to  live  close  by  the  mission  house,  for  she 
had  so  persuaded  her  husband.  It  was  not  long 
before  Mr.  Ross  took  them  both  into  the  church 
earnest,  humble  believers. 

I am  sure  my  story  would  be  incomplete  did 
I bring  it  to  a close  without  again  mentioning 
Kijun,  the  brave,  the  faithful.  Of  course,  he 
had  to  come  to  the  mission  home  with  Tatong 
and  the  others,  and,  of  course,  he  remained  a 
welcomed  and  privileged  inmate.  Should  you 
go  there  to-day  you  would  see  frequently  to- 
gether— either  in  the  mission  compound  or  mov- 
ing along  the  street,  bound  on  some  errand — 
two  four-footed  companions,  a little  gray  and 
black  shaggy  dog  and  a stately  ox.  They  are 
Kijun  and  Mokpo,  for,  in  her  gratitude  for  the 
blessings  the  sweet  “Jesus  Doctrine”  brought  to 
her,  Nakta  had  given  the  latter  as  a four-footed 


252 


Tatong,  the  Little  Slave. 


servant  to  the  mission,  and  a faithful,  valued 
one  he  made,  always  cheerfully  doing  what  he 
was  called  on  to  do. 

Those  who  come  to  the  mission  house  now 
do  not  have  to  do  so  with  caution  and  with  fear, 
for  seldom  is  it  that  they  meet  with  opposition  or 
with  persecution ; neither  are  those  who  go 
abroad  to  proclaim  the  “doctrine”  forbidden  to 
do  so  within  the  Avails,  as  Avas  once  the  case.  The 
king  himself  has  issued  the  decree,  “The  mis- 
sionaries shall  not  be  molested.”  Thus  does  the 
SAveet,  glad  “doctrine”  spread.  Thus  does  the 
day  break  through  the  once  dark  night  of  Korea. 


Ill 

iffiiiilfii  Theoi°<5c'31  Str 

■w  Si**-  i.  t • ... 

1 

1012  01- 

Date 

21  2661 

• 

Due 

30/ 

